Word of the day: Executive Privilege
Meaning: Withholding information from the public in the interest of public safety.
...
"You can expose them all, President Hale! The people have a right to protect themselves! It's in the interest of public safety! They have to know about the monsters we're up against!"
Derek raised an eyebrow at General Gerard Argent's words and tone. "The monsters we're up against? What makes them monsters, General? From the reports you've shown me, the ones that fight and injure your men are doing so in self-defence. In fact, your men seem to always be in the right place at the right time when previously-innocent people who have never hurt anyone before suddenly start to attack, General."
General Argent's mouth thinned into a frown, his eyes cold. Derek fought the urge to shudder; he'd seen lizard people with kinder expressions.
"What has been done here is against the Geneva Convention, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, as well as every ethical and personal viewpoint I hold. In fact, in the interest of public safety, everyone involved in this... endeavour should find alternative means of employment. That includes yourself, General Argent. Thank you for your time," Derek said.
He couldn't call it service because there had been peace for longer than most expected, and General Argent was well-known for rising through the Army's ranks thanks to his late wife, and calling it his own success instead. His daughter had followed her mother's example for her own employment, and had been less than pleased to be kicked out of the Secret Service as a result when she eventually offered a very different secret service to the wrong person.
Now that his wife and her influence was gone, and the previous President had lost by a landslide, Argent's use of taxpayer money had been brought into question when there was so little return for the millions he'd been given over the last three years. Argent had used what little influence he had left to get the Anti-Magic and Werecreatures Bill introduced on the Senate floor. Most people laughed it off, but General Argent's twenty years of service - most of them behind a desk thanks to his wife's influence - had more people listening than even he had anticipated. When the new President himself had requested more information about the Bill, Gerard knew he'd have all the job security he needed, just as soon as the President knew that these monsters existed, just like he had with the previous President. He'd given President Hale a tour of the underground bunker and demonstrated how evil the monsters he'd captured were, utterly certain of the Bill passing with the new President's support.
Derek had honestly thought that General Argent was going to show him war plans against some random country with oil or supposed weapons, certainly not an underground bunker full of their own goddamned citizens being experimented on and held hostage by a small private army. The fact that this place even existed made him nauseous and the only reason Derek didn't immediately throw up was because it finally gave him the excuse he needed to fire General Argent.
Argent's smug expression disappeared and his mouth dropped. "You're firing me?!"
"Yes, I am."
Gerard's face reddened and he stood, pointing a finger and glaring. "Listen here, you fuck, the only reason you got elected is because of men like me. My influence extends far further than the likes of you could ever know. Firing me will start a war and it's one I'll win."
"Are you threatening the President, Mr. Argent?"
Argent didn't even have the decency to look ashamed, and sneered over at Derek's Head of Secret Service. "What's it sound like to you?"
Stiles grinned, wide and broad and a little bit psychotic. "Sounds like grounds to finally be able to kick your ass out of the White House. Sir?" he asked, sparing a glance for Derek.
"You won't go quietly, will you, Argent?" Derek asked, resigned with a tiny sliver of hope that Gerard might actually see sense.
He didn't want his first month as President to be marred by images of Argent being dragged kicking and screaming across the damn front lawn, even if it would be amusing for himself and satisfying for Stiles.
"Damn right I won't! I've served this country and held this seat for - "
"Three and a half years, you posturing moron. Everyone knows that Mrs. Argent kissed political ass to get your position and had to suck dick just to keep you in the Army!" Stiles said with a laugh.
Face reddening, Gerard turned his attention towards the shitstain who had usurped his daughter's position. "You only got this position because you're fucking him!" he said, thumbing over to Derek.
Stiles' grin just got wider and somehow, even more psychotic. "Nah, that's just a bonus. You're still upset 'cause I got Kate's sexual harrassing ass kicked out, are you? Even if she learned everything from her dear dead mommy, it's no fucking excuse for what that bitch did."
Derek sighed. "If we can get to the part where Argent's escorted out of here, I'd appreciate it. I want this whole... operation shut down by someone you trust, Stilinski."
Stiles gave a salute, mocking and cheeky as he dared. "Yes, sir."
Gerard used the moment of distraction to his advantage, whipping his gun out and pointing it at Stiles. "Don't move!"
Stiles rolled his eyes and held his hands up with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, that's no fun."
"Think about what you're doing, Argent," Derek said, anger lacing his tone.
"The last President agreed with me, and you will too! You'll see what these monsters are like. It won't take long for something to happen to your family, your friends, your... fuck toy over there, and you'll know I'm right. They need to be exterminated like the bugs they are!"
"Are they monsters or are they bugs? Seems like two very different species and different methods of genocide, if that's what you're going for," Stiles mused, moving so Gerard's gun would follow him, keeping Derek out of sight and out of harm's way.
Gerard's jaw tightened. "It doesn't matter! They all need to die!"
"Right, genocide and mass deaths, just what the good ol' US of A wants to be known for. Y'know, again."
"Stop moving! I have the gun, I'm calling the shots," Gerard snapped, locking the hammer back and holding his finger over the trigger.
"All right, calm your saggy balls. Ew, I pictured it. Ewww," Stiles shuddered. "I'm not moving. I'm doing what you said, okay? Also, FYI, I've thought about it and I do not appreciate being called a fuck toy."
Gerard had had enough. "Shut the fuck up!"
Stiles grinned, his eyes bright, and not in a good way. "But I'm doing such a good job of distracting you."
His words made sense, but at the same time, they made no sense at all. There was no reception down here for the President to call for help, and the underground bunker was filled with his men that were paid for their loyalty and silence. He turned in time to see a monster where the President had been standing only moments ago, a werewolf snarling with red eyes, thick sideburns, and... wait, was that the President's tie?
"You're... you're one of them!" Gerard said, eyes wide and hand slack on the gun. Then his grip tightened and he lifted the gun to point at the President, his finger moving to the trigger in the same instant.
A gunshot rang out and Derek blinked when he realised he wasn't hurt. In front of him, Gerard dropped to his knees, blood blossoming across his shirt and a look of disbelief on his face.
"Stiles, what did you do?" Derek asked, looking between the dying man and his bodyguard, sighing around fangs.
Stiles frowned at him, holding his gun to the side so the barrel wouldn't burn his leg - you only made that mistake once - and tilted his head. "He was going to shoot you, I couldn't get to you in time, so I shot him instead. I'll probably be doing paperwork about this from now until the end of time, and might have to face a review panel, but it's worth it."
Derek shifted back, adjusting his tie. "Thank you, Stiles."
"Just doing my job, sir," he replied, smiling. Then his smile faded and he looked out of the one-way glass to the cages and small militia that Argent had created. "I don't think we'll be making our political dinner, Derek."
It hadn't been a dinner either of them had wanted to attend in the first place, but they both knew the sort of sacrifices they'd have to make even before Derek had started his first political campaign. Considering the cages of tortured people below, Derek hated that he felt relieved he wouldn't have to attend the dinner now.
"No, probably not. I'll send the Vice President with my apologies. You organise backup first; convincing Lydia will take longer," Derek admitted, glancing down as Argent took his final breath.
"Yeah, she's not going to be happy," Stiles mused, picking up the old-school rotary phone on Argent's desk to place a call. "Boyd, Reyes, you two still awake and decent?"
"It's five-thirty, Stilinski, what do you think?" Boyd asked.
"No, we're not!" Erica called with a laugh in the background.
"Get decent, find Lahey, and get to the White House. Argent took it upon himself to use an underground bunker as his own personal playground. We're talking werecreature prisoners, torture, and men compensating for their tiny dicks with weapons."
"Holy fuck. We'll be right there."
"Use the elevator in the Oval Office to get to the bunker. It's one of many entrances, apparently. Oh, and don't move Argent's body, I want to get the fucker's fingernails to curse Kate."
"There isn't an elevator in the Oval Office. Stiles, what body - "
Stiles hung up the phone, knowing Boyd and Erica would have no problem finding the elevator since he'd left the fake panel door open. He held the phone out to Derek so he could call Lydia, then looked at the walls of Argent's office covered in maps, lists with names, and didn't envy anyone the investigation that would take place after Argent's treason was revealed.
Seeing a small wall-mounted key cabinet, Stiles opened it to find it filled with labelled keys, each one corresponding to the bunker's map taped to the door. Waiting until Derek finished his call with Lydia, Stiles nodded to the box. "Do you want to distract the army while I work my magic on these?"
"You'll be safe?" Derek asked.
Stiles grinned. "Always, sir. They're likely to be distracted with a great and moving speech from their new President. Might I suggest the one from Independence Day?"
"No, Stiles."
Stiles grinned and grabbed the map and a handful of keys. "Hmm, fine. All right, you keep 'em distracted and I'll get the cages open. Wish me luck."
Before Derek could do that, Stiles disappeared. Literally.
Waiting another few minutes to allow Boyd and Erica more time as well as the scent of Stiles' magic to fade, Derek stepped out onto the office landing to keep the late General's army preoccupied. Derek knew he would be using his executive privilege sooner rather than later. In the interest of public safety, of course.
...
The end.
Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!