Playtime was over.

The President knew that the world was mocking him. He knew that his “Always Armed, Always Ready” policy failed. Horrifically. Cleveland was a disaster. Every talking head on the news kept saying how dangerous it was to fly over cities with bombs. They kept saying, “think of the sporting events.”

The President saw an out, however. He actually read “this” intel report, about the data leak. The one that followed Cleveland. The hack that gave America every last coordinate it needed. Time to go big.

So the Commander in Chief led a procession through the White House. Everett, Tarvish, and Murphy followed behind their leader. He billed it as the biggest meeting.

They entered the John F. Kennedy Conference Room (aka The Situation Room). The grand oak table reflected light from the flashing monitors. Intelligence from Iraq, Syria, and Cleveland was all you could see. Payload. Detonation. Newly appointed White House Staff were milling about. Their nametags were still collecting dust. Tarvish grimaced. He had a feeling all these new faces were symbolic. They were here for something important.

“Have a seat gentle-”

“-We prefer to stand on this one.”

“Fine, Stand. I don’t care. Welcome Everyone. I’ve invited us in here because we’re making an important move today. This is huge. Come tomorrow, your kids, your grandkids will wake up in a safer world. And I want you all to be in here to see it. That’s why I’m announcing that,” he turned to the welcomed generals. “I want to thank all of you gentlemen for serving your country. You’ve done tremendous work. It’s been an honor you’ve given … you deserve to feel good about your time here.”

The generals were all stunned. For the President to pick a time like this to gut the military, hours after the Cleveland attack? When they had intel and started drone strikes. He was insane. Tarvish furrowed a brow, as the President continued, “and that’s why I think it’s time you all take a vacation. It’s been a great honor, and now, well, you’re done.” Tarvish clenched up, same as he always did. Murphy started stammering, while Everett remained stoic, never truly living hard moments until he sat in his leather bombers chair (his A-10 Desert Storm relic).

“You fuuuuuUUUUUCKING wrinkling SHIT!” Tarvish leapt out. “You fucking FIRE us? At a critical time like this? When you’re the ONLY reason we just lost Brown’s Stadium?”

The President smirked, feeling everyone in the room agree with Tarvish. “What? You’ll get the retirement, you’ll get the pension. What are you blubbering about?”

Tarvish reeled, having a fat man accuse him of blubbering. He decided there was only one way to handle this orangutan. He needed to keep a lid on it, build the steam and hope he wouldn’t explode. That was his hope anyway.

“Sir… You’ll have to forgive my outburst….” He waited almost an eternity to finish his thought… “I’m in a tough place, what with Cleveland. I know there’s other news. You have another announcement. I’d like to stay, respectfully, and hear it. It’s the least you could do me, as Commander-in-Chief, Mr. President.”

He liked that. MISTER President. He smiled and looked back to his board. “Well why waste any time? Okay, Bring it in.”

The Secret Service called into their cuff-mics. More black suited men walked in. One with a briefcase chained to his hand.

He placed the suitcase and opened up the contents, revealing a shiny, golden tablet.

“Technology, I love it. Used to be a whole thing, and now it’s just in this little guy. No knobs or antennas.”

“Mr. President,” said Murphy, “why are you holding the nuclear football?”

“Wait, wait, wait. Stop. This is my time. Gentlemen gathered, I want to usher you into the future. My future. The next step in democracy if you will. See, these guys, these ISIS guys. They are the past. They’re like Bible old. We don’t do things like that anymore, and it’s about time people understood that. I know the last guy was a total pussy, but I’m not like that and, OH GEEEZ.” The President threw up a hand in serious annoyance. Tarvish now had his handgun trained into the eyes of Mr. President.

“Mr. President, put down the device and slide it this way.” The room tensed. The women and men of the President’s cabinet were silently freaking out. They didn’t think an active shooter could sneak into the most secure location on Earth.

“Will you put that thing down, I’m the President. Come on, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Tarvish saw the SS start to go for their guns.

“Pull your guns and I’ll drop this fucker!” Tarvish reeled, shooting flecks of spittle onto the golden tablet. The SS guards in front of him, with hands on their firearms, hesitated. How crazy was this son-of-a-bitch threatening the President? Tarvish wondered how long it would take for the Service to kill a standing U.S. general. This tantrum would certainly land Tarvish his day in court martial. He sensed the rotation of bodies behind him. In no time, Tarvish could feel a gun pointed at him from Everett. In a forceful voice, much less cool than Tarvish, “PUT THE FUCKING GUN DOWN OR I’LL BLOW YOUR HEAD IN,” popped out of the stoic Everett. In milliseconds, Tarvish had two red lines pushing onto his person from the Service guarding the room.

“This is really childish, guys, come on. You’re ruining my moment. This is history dammit.” The President swiped the device on to get into the mobile screen. The smudge from Tarvish’s spittle blocked the device, so he had to swipe several times to open. “You spit on my thing,” said the President, and with a final swipe, the keypad for the nuclear launch codes came up on the screen. Time was out. This madman was going all in.

“PUT IT DOWN!!!!” yelled Tarvish.

The President flapped his arms. He didn’t see any threat in the Situation Room. “HEY! Everyone calm down. You’re all wrong. I’m doing this. I’m in charge. Three words: Chief. Of. Staff.”

“COMMANDER IN CHIEF YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER” yelled Everett. “Fuck it.” He swung his Beretta off Tarvish and onto the President. “PUT IT THE FUCK DOWN!!!”

The Service members gulped deeply. They weren’t sure how much mutiny they would be able to handle. They wouldn’t back their guns down. They kept their laser sights on target. Protect the President.

“Gentlemen, I think ‘History’ is going to be very kind to me, and I’m going to begin that legacy right, about.” The President started to key in the first few digits. “now.” He raised his pointer finger dramatically. He made sure to launch his nukes in the most cartoon fashion… Tarvish was counting on it.

Tarvish filled his mouth with saliva. With laser-precision, he hocked a loogey right at the President. Time ceased as the spit launched through the Situation Room. It splashed along the entire touch screen, followed immediately by the President’s finger.

The gold-plated screen couldn’t tell the President’s warm finger from Tarvish’s one-in-a-million saliva. Everyone’s butthole was tighter than a Space Shuttle lug nut. Tarvish’s spit took the SS off their guard just long enough for Tarvish to save the world.

The general dropped both knees and exhaled. In free fall, he ripped a slug out of his gun. It cruised through the sitting President’s temple and out the back of his toupee.

Tarvish hit the ground, hearing a bullet hiss past his ear. He ducked under the table. Bullets were snapping, but Tarvish raised his pistol. From below, he fired up into the wood of the table. Aiming through the oak, he blew bullets through the wooden table.

Tarvish emptied his clip into this grand table hole. The bullets eventually came through, denting and cracking the golden tablet. The screen splintered into twisted metal. Tarvish shot the US Nuclear Program out of commission for the first time since the Cuban Missile Crisis. If China, or Russia, or Great Britain felt like attacking… well you didn’t wanna be caught dead in America for the next 10 hours.

The hail of bullets stopped as soon as they began. A bullet in Everett’s gut. A bullet in a Secret Service member’s bicep. A horribly shaken Secretary of State. And one dead President.