John Newman had imagined himself in numerous situations when he decided to run for a democratically elected position. Down in the streets, showing people he was just a normal human, for example. Behind a podium, delivering a speech as best he could. Flexing his muscles a bit by using the elementals to help clean the streets or something.

Sitting in a late night talk show and speaking about his first campaign ad wasn’t one of them. Although there was a nice and calm smile on his face, inside he was winding in discomfort. He was being blinded by the lights overhead that made everything look nice for the camera but made the crowd in front of the studio look like a bunch of not yet unlocked options in a character select screen, just dark silhouettes.

He was sitting in a comfortable chair, right next to the large desk of the hostess, a blonde catgirl of natural prettiness and painted on gorgeousness. The co-host was a grumbly insectoid of the praying mantis variety, who commented mostly by clicking his mandibles. Something that the crowd found funny every time and left the Gamer wondering what the hell was so entertaining as they laughed.

In other words, John had no idea what was going on, but he still had to be there.

“Now, Mister Newman, your sudden nomination two days ago has caused a bit of a ruckus amongst the people,” the catgirl said, leaning towards him in a way that let John see her white lace bra in the décolleté of her suit, the three top buttons open. She had breasts bordering on a D-cup. The Gamer kept his gaze focused on her red eyes. “Personally, I heard some rumours a few days beforehand but thought it was entirely impossible.”

“Well, it was a rather sudden decision,” John went along, moving his hand in nonchalant gestures as he talked. “I found the line in a code of law and decided I wanted to try.”

“This was despite getting along with President Abraham, right?”

“The two of us had some nice talks, yes, and I think he is a good guy at heart,” John agreed, proceeding to speak his mind. “However, I do think I can do more for this guild and America as a whole.”

“America?” the hostess looked genuinely confused for a moment. “Ah, sorry, you have grown up as a mundane, right?”

“That is right,” John felt like his words were perfect to be written down and published as an interview in a magazine. Not the type of conversation he was used to, but so far this seemed pretty okay.

“So when you say America, you mean the borders of the real world USA, right?”

“Ah,” John made a noise of understanding and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that could be misunderstood. Yeah, I indeed mean the USA by America. I abhor the state many parts of the country are in, with the slave trade and abductions for mana factories, to name the two most gruesome things I can think of immediately.”

“So, you want to unify the entire continent under your rule?” the catgirl asked.

‘Bad question to answer honestly on public television, dodge, John, dodge,’ he thought and reached for the water to get a second to formulate an answer that was both a yes and a no. As he put the glass back down, his voice echoed with a humorous tone, “That would be one thick country, I would be ruling.” Quietly, he added, ‘Take the bait please.’

“Yeah you could say that,” the catgirl said and then laughed when her co-host clicked some indiscernible words together. “Wow, K’tik, you are such a rude bug! Anyway, while we are on the topic of thick, there is an air of sexual rumours around you. Basically, you are being caught in the act pretty regularly and the fact that you have a harem is pretty widely known. Do you have any comments on that?”

‘Thank god, she took the bait,’ John thought and grinned to himself. “Not a whole lot interesting to say there. When I first learned about this whole Abyss thing, I found out that you people have a much more liberal stance towards the entire polygamy thing. I am just one guy who had the dream for a collective of cute and lovable girls to share a life with and was blessed with the opportunity to make that real.”

“Okay, that doesn’t explain why you keep getting caught having sex in public places though.”

John raised a finger and wiggled it as a non-serious warning, “That is not quite correct there, I keep getting caught having sex -mostly- between business meetings. In other words, in buildings that are part of my government.”

“So, you wouldn’t fuck me right on this table?” the catgirl asked, her breasts almost popping out of her shirt as she bowed even deeper towards John.

“I would have to call my girlfriend first, we like to share first times with new girls,” he joked and the blonde made an annoyed sound as she plopped back into her seat. “Anyway, the rumours in that regard are absolutely true. I have the necessary self-control to keep it in my pants if it’s a serious day, but between all the bureaucracy I just need some relaxing outlets, you know? Keeps my productivity high.”

“You certainly have a love for the productive and the free spirited,” the hostess agreed. “Which brings me to your first campaign ad, which we here at CPDI got exclusively. Roll it!”

The advertisement rolled on a TV behind the hostess. It was entirely based on the ‘You got a license for that?’ meme and thus poked fun at Abraham’s immense government apparatus. Although John was clearly the focus of the ad, Beatrice played her part with brilliant believability. Perhaps because the lightly sassy and robotic personality of an obnoxious license controller was basically written for her.

Meanwhile, John understood why CPDI didn’t stand for Catgirl Pedestrians Do Interviews but Catgirl Perverts do the Interviewed. The fact that a channel like this even existed on Abyssal television made him a happy person.

If he could trust Scarlett’s report on the CPDI, had he agreed to the offer to fuck the hostess, that would have been somewhat normal. To be fair, it was already a late-night show and this was an age restricted show. Well, as age restricted as a ‘Are you 18?’ question at the front of a website made it. John somewhat wanted to partake in some sort of erotic game show one day.

The ad came to an end and he barely managed to decipher the clicks of the co-host. “Did you have a license for that ad?”

John gave him a chuckle out of courtesy and had to reattempt his answer numerous times as he could barely hear himself over the crowd losing their collective shit over how funny they found that comment. ‘I really don’t get what they find so entertaining about this guy,’ the Gamer thought when the laughter finally died down. “It was produced over in my territory, so I only needed one to air it.”

“You got it rather quick, what is your secret?” the hostess wanted to know. Two days to get an airing license was indeed rather hasty.

“I am a high-profile individual, so I think they put me at the top of the pile,” John shrugged and then went to take a jab at the system. “There also may or may not have been bribery involved, but who knows if that isn’t part of the current system?”

“Well that is certainly…” the catgirl stopped and raised a hand to her left human ear. It was a bit odd to see humanoids with four ears, but that was just the way they looked. Her nonchalant expression suddenly went serious as she nodded towards whoever was currently whispering into the button in her ear. “We are interrupting the program for important news. In the northern economical district, it has come to a violent clash between two gangs of people. The reason for the conflict seems to be the current political situation.”

Worried clicking from the co-host and rumbling from the ranks, John felt a vibration in his breast pocket and took the freedom to check it. “I can verify getting similar news,” he told the panel after reading the message from Scarlett confirming what had just been said. He looked straight at the camera after confirming it was the currently displayed one. “I condemn any street fights or violent engagements, period,” he sharply stated.

This whole thing came out of the left field, but the Gamer didn’t have to think a long time about his response. Physical means were only to be used as enforcement when words failed. Right now, speech was doing perfectly fine.

“Do you think that president Abraham orchestrated that attack to give you a bad name?” the hostess showed her journalistic roots by immediately looking for some sort of scandal.

“No,” he denied flat-out. “Again, I believe he is a good guy at heart. Certainly, he wouldn’t pull a move this underhanded.” John rose from his seat, “I can’t comment on this any further before knowing any more details. For all we know, this could just have been a drunk brawl that went too far and had some people shouting things. I will have to leave and investigate.”

“We understand,” the insectoid co-host clicked.

“Well, we will end the program here then, folks,” the catgirl looked at the audience with a sorry expression. “Let’s hope candidate Newman is going to visit us again soon for a talk uninterrupted by bad news.”

John planned to, he generally liked this program.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Violence between our people is unacceptable,” Abraham shouted into his microphone, standing behind the heavily decorated wooden podium in front of the white house. As a show of strength, the white-armoured knights that made up the governmental guard stood in a closed line behind him.

The brawl had exploded into the story of the local news within hours and now everybody in the political landscape was forced to make a comment on it. The two people that hogged all the screen time were John and the current president of the Little Maryland, to no surprise. Some hopeful candidates were still trying to enter relevancy but failed miserably.

John was watching the live footage together with Chemilia and her husband, as he was staying over at their house for the night. It was a surprisingly boring house in the suburbs, not terribly different from his parents’ place. They were waiting in silence while Aclysia made them tea, the diligent servant even in other people’s kitchens.

“It is clear to me that my supporters, loyal to the Maryland as they are, would never attack their fellow guild members. Of course, we have to wait for the conclusive report, but it is self-explaining that people that support a foreign takeover, because things aren’t going their way right now, would be a bit more temperamental.”

“The idiot,” Chemilia hissed as John clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. “So much for not wanting to start a civil war.”

“It’s not that bad yet,” the Gamer tried to convince himself just as much as Chemilia. “He is using the incident to solidify his base. Seems like he really wants to go with the foreign invader narrative.” It was an understandable angle, since John could probably win by relying on not being Abraham almost solely. In such a situation, the current president had to rely on what John wasn’t as well.

Ted grumbled his own short commentary on the situation, “He is increasing the division.”

“As far as he is concerned, this is the last election he has to win, so he is fine with playing every dirty trick in the book, I reckon,” John ground his teeth. “This was already a powderkeg and now he is playing with matches. How out of touch can you get?” It was infinitely frustrating that a person that was clearly smart could be this blind towards the obvious because it didn’t suit their narrative. “Maybe neither of us will have to start a civil war, one wrong move and we will just get dragged into it.”