Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

The beat of her feet hitting the treadmill at speed echoed across the small room to join in an odd harmony with the shaking and rattling aircon blowing full blast from over the door. To accompany them was the television older than she was that hung precariously high in the far corner.

Even given the relative distance between the treadmill and the television, the tiny scrawl of captions were almost illegible. Had they been, then the next issue would be that the captions themselves could not keep up with the words of the commentators on a traditional news station. Black bars with blocky white writing fluctuated so haphazardly the sentences were only half finished with frequently misspelled words.

But as her eyes flicked across the screen, the headphones in her ears blocking all noise but the music pumping though her ear canal, anyone could assume she did not mean to pay the television any mind. They would be wrong, however. If they measured the angle of her eyeline, they would note that she followed the mouths of the speakers and not the captions.

Eventually the treadmill coughed toward its finish and she jogged until the belt stopped moving. Her focus remained on the screen as she took the small towel to wipe the sweat threatening to fall from her forehead. She stepped off the treadmill, walking to the ragged and ripped mats hanging along the wall to pull one to the floor. Setting it at an exact right angle to parallel with the wall, she began a set of exercises that worked her through burpees, sit-ups, pushups, and weight lifting with the mismatched selection.

But her eyes never left the screen.

When an interview played on the television, her movements slowed to catch more from the images. As the interview progressed she finally stopped fully, watching the man on the hanging television while ignoring the scroll of imperfect captions. Each move of her eyes, flicking between the speakers, betrayed a different micro expression to the room empty of anyone but her.

The subject of the interview shifted in his chair to find a comfortable spot but his eyes never wavered from his interviewer. With each of his movements, the woman's posture stiffened, as if in direct opposition to the motions of the man. After another moment she tapped her headphones so the blue light blinked off. Another minute of watching the interview sent her moving backward toward a cinch sack hanging from the pegs.

Digging around the contents, that barely knocked against one another, she retrieved a phone. She did not check if the bag hung back on the pegs- it barely managed to land as she carelessly dropped it- but focused instead on dialing a number. Her phone blinked as it connected to her wireless headphones and the echo of the ring vibrated in her ears, leaving her music to pause.

It rang only once more before someone answered. "If you're calling about anything but your own death then I promise I'll kill you myself."

"I need you to get me a meeting with John Bates."

"What?"

"I need you to get me a meeting with John Bates. Or whomever is responsible for John Bates's campaign." She waited a minute, "He's the MP from Manchester North who's running for-"

"I know who he is." There was a definitive sigh and groan on the other end before something that sounded like a shriek, a soothing comment to someone else, and then a hissed response. "It's three in the sodding morning Anna!"

"Is it?" She turned her wrist to view the watch face on the inside. "So it is. That gives you more than enough time to offer our standard contract to him."

"You said you were going on break. I distinctly remember that conversation because I highly recommended it."

"You also recommended I get myself laid and I haven't done that either."

"Find a hobby yet?"

"I'm tired of that."

"It's only been a week Anna. You just got out of the clinic and-"

"And I need to occupy my mind or I'll go mad. I'm running on a treadmill in a hotel gym at three in the bloody morning." Anna paced in place a moment. "It's pretty bad for me managing this ad campaign. It's boring and they're small time. They've no vision and I'm done with them. There's nowhere else for them to go."

"The contract doesn't end-"

"It's over tomorrow and I need a new project Gwen." Anna waited, "Please? He's got potential and I need to mine that."

"Fine. I'll call him at a reasonable hour."

"If he's good then he's got people-"

"No. I'll call him at a reasonable hour, when people are supposed to be awake. Until then I'm going back to bed and so are you."

"Sure."

"Anna, I'm serious. You need more than three hours of sleep."

"I had five."

"Liar."

"Fine, it was four and a half. Almost five."

"Better than last week I guess." Gwen sighed on her end of the line. "Just… Rinse off or whatever and try to at least doze for a bit."

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Goodnight."

The call ended and Anna put her phone away, still staring at the screen of the television. She switched back to her music, finished the exercises, and left the workout room. The empty corridors in the hotel greeted her with the smell of travel and sturdy carpet but none of that mattered. All that mattered, all the way back to her room, was the campaign that was not even hers.

Yet.

Hours passed slowly as she obediently dozed on the rented bed. Her body lay out as if in state, her hands resting on her chest but practically vibrating with the energy restlessly searching for an escape. Energy that had her out of bed the second the alarm on her phone played Iggy Pop's The Traveler.

The first order of business was the call for a car. The second was to pack her things and settle her bill for the shoddy hotel. The third was to send an email with the final details for her current advertisement assignment while also sending her letter of resignation as the subheading.

When she was in the car, her fingers flying fiercely over her phone's keyboard, Anna took the call on her earbuds while handing an address to the driver on a slip of paper. "Did we get it?"

"Not even a 'hello' before you get to business?"

"We're already behind and we've not got time." Anna paused, sighing with a roll of her eyes, and pasted on a fake smile. "Hello Gwen, how was your evening?"

"Rudely interrupted but manageable."

"Good. I've got a car and I'll be at yours in an hour."

"Je- Anna." Gwen's beleaguered sigh on the other end of the line had Anna pausing the flurry of her fingers. "Fine. We're set for the meeting at nine."

"Perfect." Anna almost ended the call before continuing, "Thank you."

She hung up before Gwen could respond and did not move as the car stopped. The door opened and three people slipped inside, taking up the seat across from her. Even the driver's cough did not rouse Anna until she finished typing out her message and sent it.

Looking up at the three people seated before her, Anna's smile turned genuine. "So glad you could meet with me this morning."

"You promised quite the bounty if we did." The man in the middle, barley over the age of consent, leaned forward. "And I've heard good things."

"Same here, Mr. Crowe, same here." Anna dug into the bag at her side and passed over a thin file. "That's the job and the payment for it."

Mr. Crowe took the file and flicked through it as the two people on either side of him leaned over just enough to see the words. After a second he closed it and his accent slipped into his speech, "All of this?"

"Yes. I've already set up a space at this address," Anna handed over a card and the Indian girl at Crowe's side took it. "You'll use that for a headquarters as long as you're working for me."

"Is it scrubbed?" The darker man sitting next to Crowe spoke.

"Doesn't need to be but it's off-grid." Anna turned back to Crowe. "I want to know everything. Finances, voting history, the kinds of books I'd find on his shelves or his bedside table. I want every speech he's ever given, written, discard, and or considered while he was in the shower."

"That's a lot."

"That's necessary, Mr. Crowe." Anna sat back, crossing one leg over the other. "And I'll need it for both of them."

"This…" Crowe held up the file in gloved fingers. "This is powerful currency."

"I'll be spending it wisely."

"It's what they say about you." The woman spoke and Anna turned toward her. "That you're the kind to go for the throat."

"Then I'm in good company here, aren't I Ms. Darke?" Anna studied the other woman, "But this is information for me."

"You'll not try to use it?"

"Not the way you think I will, Mr. Bright." Anna turned back to the darker man. "I can't very well run a campaign if I don't know the man I'm working for or the man opposing him."

"And which one of them are you supporting?" Crowe leaned forward but Anna did not move. Her body remained as still as Crowe's did, their equally expensive shoes almost touching on the floor of the car. "Barrow or Bates?"

"Why, plan to make a wager on it?"

"That's Mr. Bright's concern, not mine." Crowe shook his head and his accent slipped entirely out of English and into something resembling German. "I'm concerned about where it'll fall out for us."

Anna ran her tongue over her lips and matched Crowe's Dutch. "If I said anything now, that'd be telling… And counting chickens before they hatch. Both are bad practices in my line of work."

"Mine too." Crowe finally smiled, his harsh cheekbones making the action almost ghoulish. He straightened, running his gloved-hand through his perfectly managed hair before tugging at his lapels to arrange his overcoat. He returned to English when he spoke next, "We're yours to command in this, Ms. Smith."

"It'll be a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Crowe." Anna waited as Mr. Bright and Ms. Darke left the car but cleared her throat to give Crowe pause as he went to leave. "Don't you think it's a bit disrespectful?"

"What?"

"Your name." Anna leaned over as he ducked toward the car. "I would've thought your father would've told you that."

"He's not alive to hear me use it." Crowe shrugged, the coat billowing slightly around his three-piece suit with a sheen that complimented the darkness of his skin. "And I thought the joke would be on anyone thinking otherwise."

"Be that as it may, James," Anna moved back onto her seat. "I'd take care not to let any Americans hear you use it."

"I fleece Americans, I don't talk to them."

"Mores the pity for the tourism industry." Anna nodded at him, "I'll text you before I drop by."

"To tell us to scrap it if you don't get the job?"

"To tell you next steps when I do get the job." Anna smiled at him. "I know where to place my bets."

"Maybe next time you could give Mr. Bright a few pointers on that."

"Maybe next time I'll have a chance to." Anna grabbed the door. "Goodbye Mr. Crowe and good luck on your work."

When the door closed Anna turned to the driver and pulled out her phone again. "The next address please."

It took enough time to reach the next destination that Anna needed to use a chargeport in the car for her phone. All it did was alter her position so she sat sideways when the car finally stopped. But it did not distract her any more than when the door opened and someone else opened the door.

Anna continued flicking through her phone, reading quickly, and nodded at the ginger-headed woman who now sat across from her. "Morning."

"Good job."

"What?' Anna finally looked up, noting the other woman's strained smile.

"That you started with a greeting a not a demand and that you recognize that this is morning. Unlike when you called me."

"Speaking strictly technically," Anna held up a finger, tucking her phone to the side. "That was morning too."

"No, it's not."

"By the clock-"

"The only clock that matters to me is my body clock. It is god and when it says it's nighttime, that's nighttime." Gwen waved her hand toward the window, "If it's light outside, my body says that's the daytime. If it's dark outside then it's nighttime. Normal people, like me, sleep during that time. Therefore, and my body clock agrees, when it's dark outside, it's nighttime."

Anna raised an eyebrow at her, "Should I've also gotten you a drink to take the edge off the morning you're obviously not enjoying to go with the greeting I extended when you got in the car?"

"That would've been nice, yes."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Anna almost went for her phone when one rang but Gwen held up hers.

"It's mine." She slipped her thumb over the bar to unlock it and smiled. "Hello Ms. O'Brien. Yes, yes, I did get your message. I was…"

Gwen paused, her brow furrowing. "No, I hadn't… It wasn't so… I was…"

Anna waited through exactly three more stopped phrases before she reached forward and snatched Gwen's phone. Ignoring Gwen's dropped jaw, Anna put the phone on speaker and forced her nicest voice. "Yes, this is Anna Smith, Ms. Dawson's PA. She'll call you back when you've got a better offer for her and are willing to stop wasting her time. Until then, please refrain from calling her."

Tapping the 'end' icon, Anna handed the phone back to Gwen. "All handled." Gwen took the phone, blinking at Anna until Anna shrugged at her, "What?"

"That was a dick move."

"But it got you off a call you're too polite to refuse." Anna shook her head, "They'll never offer you the money you deserve."

"It's not your decision to make."

"No, it's not, but I'd hate myself if I stood by and allowed my friend to destroy her life for something not worth her time." Anna paused, sucking the insides of her cheek a moment. "You taught me about that."

Gwen's fingers curled around her phone and she nodded, "Then I guess a part of me is grateful I've got a friend willing to play the bitch better than me."

"Play?" Anna snorted and shook her head, "I don't 'play' at being a bitch, Gwen. I am the head bitch in charge."

"There she is." Gwen leaned back into her seat. "And here I thought I wouldn't get to see what you looked like with warpaint again."

"It's on in full this morning." Anna leaned forward and called to the driver, "The last address please. I've got a meeting at nine."

Gwen twisted over her shoulder before frowning at Anna. "New driver?"

"It's not my car. Well," Anna winced, "It is for the next hour or so. I ordered it from a service and they're getting top dollar."

"A woman with your means and you've not got a driver?"

"A woman like me wants her freedom."

Gwen pursed her lips, "I do hope it's not about being able to go places without anyone knowing where you are."

"If I wanted that I'd learn to drive myself. But, as it happens, my concerns are more about not wanting to draw attention to ourselves when we show up at a campaign office."

"And not because you're afraid I'd find a way to bribe a driver to know where you are every hour of every day?"

Anna held up her phone, "I know you're already tracking this and I can't live without it so it's almost like I put an ankle monitor on myself."

"You never needed a monitor."

"Says my monitor." Anna gave a little smile as Gwen waved off the comment. "I am grateful you're coming with me this morning."

"I thought I should if you woke me up at three in the morning for whatever this is." Gwen paused, lines forming on her forehead. "What is this, anyway?"

"This is the biggest chance to change the world we'll ever have." Anna let a genuine smile take over her face. "And we're going to take it before anyone realizes we did it."

"I should've nicknamed you Pitt in school."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You wouldn't if you knew what I actually called you."

"You didn't call me a bitch in school?"

"No, I called you that too." Gwen grinned, "But I thought 'Dragon Lady' fit a bit nicer."

"Doesn't look as good now that it's not PC." Anna pursed her lips a minute before shrugging up a shoulder. "Lady Firebrand…"

"You can't nickname yourself."

"Who says?"

"Just about everyone." Gwen shook her head, "It's bad form."

"Do I look like the kind of person who gives a shit about form?"

"No but that's all the more reason you shouldn't nickname yourself." The car stopped and Gwen leaned toward the window. "We're here."

"Good." Anna detached her phone, storing it and the cord in her bag, and got out of the car. She walked to the driver and wrote out another address to hand him through the driver side window. "Please take the junk in the boot to this address."

"But what if-"

"You steal it?" Anna shrugged and handed over a hundred quid. "I hope not but I've not got time to worry over it if you do. I'll just hope you won't."

The driver looked at the money and the address before nodding. "I'll get it there miss. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you." Anna pointed to the cards on the dash. "Those yours?"

"Yeah." He handed one over, "If you need a driver again."

"I most definitely will." She read the card before tucking it away. "A pleasure, truly, Mr. Branson."

Stepping back onto the pavement as Gwen joined her, Anna watched the car drive away before turning on her heel to face the building. "Not a bad location."

"Do you actually think that?"

"No. It's a shithole." Anna pushed through the doors, her coat flapping behind her as her shoes clicked over the floor. She wove between the tables and confused people to reach the main office. The main office with a closed door she opened and entered while ignoring the half-hearted attempt to stop her from the secretary at the door. "You need to take control of the narrative, immediately."

The two men in the room froze, both staring at her. One of them, with gray hair and a tweed suit, blinked at her before speaking. "Excuse me, you can't just-"

"Walk into this office and start talking?" Anna scoffed and moved further into the office, setting her bag on a side table to better face the two men. "All evidence to the contrary Mr. Crawley."

"You…" He frowned at her, "You know me?"

"Yes, I do but I'm not here to speak to you." Anna pointed at the man just beyond him, the man from the interview that morning. "I'm here to talk to you and only you, Mr. Bates, and I think we've a lot to discuss."

"Do we?" He leaned on the edge of his desk, setting a file down and folding his arms over his chest to pull creases in his waistcoat. "And you are-"

"Anna Smith." She closed the distance between them, shaking his hand and then Mr. Crawley's.

"I've heard of you." Mr. Crawley spoke again, pointing at her as Anna took her former position back and slid her hands into the pockets of her coat. "You're… You're the fixer."

"That's a nicer nickname than I would've thought they'd give me." Anna forced a shiver. "I don't mind the title."

"But you fell off the face of the earth and-"

"And she's here now." Gwen spoke up from the door, waving at the two men. "Gwen Dawson, Ms. Smith's PA."

"Partner, more like." Anna took a breath, addressing Mr. Bates. "But we're not here to talk about me."

"Apparently you're here to talk about me." He pursed his lips a moment before forcing himself to stand. "Robert, could you give me a few minutes alone with Ms. Smith?"

"What?"

"She came in here full of steam and I'd like to see if it's worth the price of admission she's so obviously paid." Mr. Bates nodded toward the door, "Please show Ms. Dawson here where we keep the good tea."

"John? This woman-" Robert flailed for words. "She's… She's obviously-"

"Obviously what?" Anna only just stopped herself grinding out.

"Obviously isn't armed and obviously wouldn't go to all this trouble to waste our time." Mr. Bates sat on the back of the sofa to face Anna full-on. "I want to hear her out."

Robert flailed and huffed for a moment. But when neither Anna nor Mr. Bates moved he sighed and walked to where Gwen stood. "May I interest you in a cup of tea, Ms. Dawson?"

"I'd love one, thank you. And maybe a scone or whatever stale doughnuts you're bound to keep in a place like this."

The door closed and Anna faced Mr. Bates. "You need to-"

"John."

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Hello, my name's John Bates."

"I know who you are."

"Doesn't mean I've forgotten my manners." He smiled, "And I meant, please call me 'John'."

"I haven't called you anything yet."

"But you probably would've called me 'Mr. Bates' or even 'Minister' and I've a feeling you and I can dispense with the bullshit of that level of propriety." He waved his hand toward the door. "You don't think closed doors are important so titles are probably just as sodding stupid."

"They waste time."

"Then we're agreed." He smiled at her before holding up two hands. "But my apologies, I interrupted you."

Anna paused, her mind working furiously to try and identify the ground lost and regained so quickly by the deft moves of the man before her. Instead she shut her eyes, shook her head, counted three, and began again. "You need to take control of this narrative. Immediately."

"Which narrative."

"The one about your wife and her infidelity."

"Ah." John nodded, "You've seen the news."

"On a rerun this morning." Anna shook her head, "That's not the point."

"The point is that I've got to seize control of the narrative?"

"Yes."

"And how do I do that?"

"By pulling the people you want to vote for you into your personal life." Anna shrugged at John's confusion. "Tell the people about the divorce, in full. Tell them about the abuse you suffered. Tell them-"

John held up a hand, his voice even but barely. "How do you know about the-"

"I watched you, in the interview." Anna shrugged off the comment as well. "If you know what you're looking for then it's obvious."

"And you'd want me to make it obvious for those who couldn't see it?"

"Yes." Anna took a breath, "I'd schedule you to visit and speak at no less than three domestical violence shelters, with one of them being for men."

"Those exist?"

"Yes and they need more attention." Anna took a breath, "More to the point, those men, and the people, need to know that you understand how they feel."

"To make them feel sorry for me?"

"To make them empathize with you and also to show you can empathize with others." She paused, "Do you know what draws people to you?"

John snorted and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest, honestly."

"It's your empathy." Anna offered him a small smile. "There are a multitude of smart, capable, wealthy, white men out there who can't hold a room like you can. Who, for all their degrees and dollars, can't look someone in the eye and tell them, with any honesty, 'I know how you feel'."

John blinked at her, "Really?"

"Really." Anna took a breath, "No one cares how smart you are, what university you attended, or what businesses you ran. They care if you care about them. That's what makes you a good choice."

John stayed calm but his eyebrows rose. "You think that?"

"It doesn't matter what I think." Anna paced for a second before facing John again. "What matters is that I want to help you win and that's why."

"Because I'm empathetic?"

"Because I can build something with that." Anna dug into her bag and handed over a schedule. "And in that vein, I need all the skeletons from your closet."

"I don't have any-"

"Everyone has skeletons and I warn you, if you don't tell them to me now I'll just have a team of people find them for me."

"You've got a team of people finding the skeletons in my closet?" John took a deep breath. "You work fast."

"I'm exceptionally efficient."

"I'll say." John took another breath, "But I've not got any skeletons in my closet because everyone already knows all about mine."

"They know what you've wanted them to know about your skeletons and what your opposition has used about those skeletons. Now they need to know everything and you need to be the one who tells them."

"Everything?"

"Everything. From the details…" Anna pulled out her phone, scrolling through the text there. "About your drinking, your military service, your business pursuits… All the way to any one-night stands you had when you decided you wanted company for the night that wasn't your dominant hand."

John choked, "Is this a joke?"

"Not if you want to get ahead of the information you competitor's already digging for." Anna pointed toward the door, "And your poor chief of staff isn't ready to handle what's coming for you. So you need to schedule everything through me or your new chief strategist."

"Who is?"

"Gwen."

"Your PA?"

"Yes." Anna "Except she's not just my PA. She's about to be your chief strategist and the key to you winning this. Understand?"

"I've got people who-"

"Who work the office." Anna shook her head, "They're not trained for the trenches and you, unfortunately, need people with that level of expertise."

"That's you I'm guessing."

"You're smarter than your opposition would have everyone think." Anna removed her coat, draping it over her bag. "And, in case you're wondering, I wouldn't want you prepared for these trenches."

"No?"

"No because it's your earnest, honest nature that draws people to you." Anna shifted on her feet. "Bring the people into your life like trusted friends and they'll trust the man that went from being a school trustee to the MP of Manchester and now to Labour's choice for PM."

"That's the fight you want to have?"

"Yes." Anna smiled at him, "I'm here to clear the road for you."

John pursed his lips, sucking the insides of his cheeks before standing and dropping his arms to put his hands in his trouser pockets. "I won't sink to anything."

"I wouldn't think so and I'd hope not." Anna let her smile continue. "Sinking is my job. As s making sure you don't have to sink because we're playing the game on your terms and to your strengths, not to Thomas Barrow's." Anna took a deep breath, "It's part of the reason I'm excited to be working with you."

John gave a little laugh, scratching at the side of his face, and sighed. "But… But I have to wonder why."

"Why what?"

"Why me?" John shook his head, "I didn't call you."

"No one calls me, John, unless they're in trouble. I'm here to prevent that kind of call from you." Anna held up a finger, "And I'd suggest you dig into your Irish and Scottish heritage. They'll try to use it against you so play it to your advantage first."

John snorted and Anna frowned, With a wave of his hand, John tried to dispel her expression. "How'd you get into this business Ms. Smith?"

"I used to work in HR."

"Like people, do you?"

"I hate people, actually." Anna shrugged at John's widened eyes. "I liked to solve problems and people, more often than not, are just complicated problems."

"Were you good at your job in HR?" John opened his hands to her. "Were you good at solving those pesky problems that people bring with them?"

"I was the best." Anna offered a self-satisfied smile at John's raised eyebrow. "There's something to be said about not giving a shit about people's feelings when you're in HR. It means you solve the problem at hand, not the emotions being expressed by the people with the problems."

"I see." John shrugged his shoulders. "And you're here to solve my problems?"

"That's exactly what I'm here to do."