Chapter 579 – Things to take care of

Chapter 579 – Things to take care of

John let the final words of his address echo by, taking a huge gulp out of a plastic bottle to oil up his voice a little bit. In front of him was a crowd of reporters, quickly gathered on Liberty Island upon receiving a mail from the Gamer’s official email account after he had been done discussing things with Scarlett. A crowd that, albeit not quite as large as it had been for the White House announcement, despite being given a whole day to gather, grew steadily in its number of participating channels the more influential he got.

Like anything else that John could use to measure his success on, he liked it. This particular showcase came with an ever-growing pile of scandal-seeking question-askers though, so it definitely wasn’t his favourite.

As to what he had just announced, it had been two rather simple updates packed into a two-minute speech. The joining of the Hidden Tradition into Fusion and the rough implications of that for the military and other such things, as well as Sigmund’s defeat. He packaged the latter as a joined effort between their elite forces, which was technically true. No reason to disclose Thana’s involvement, it would only make the accomplishment look smaller while also reminding (or, worse, informing) people that he had the goddess of genocide around him.

Currently, that little tidbit, much like his relations to Nathalia and the Horned Rat, were discussed in the corners of the internet dedicated to disliking anyone mildly successful. It was best it stayed there. Even better would be if people got a little less resentful towards him, but John had already learned to live with the fact that some people just hated him because he existed. Compared to being bullied by people who could beat him up because they felt like it, having people gossip about him was downright paradise.

‘I could always throw Stirwin at whoever annoys me again,’ John thought, remembering that awful neckbeard last time around. “I will take questions for the next few minutes,” he said out loud, once he had put the bottle down again. “Remain calm and raise your hands, I will pick you and someone will come by and bring you a microphone.”

Immediately a bunch of arms went up. John just hoped they all actually had a question and weren’t just vying for his attention while they thought of one. In the corner of his vision, John saw the red light atop one camera switch off and atop another one switch on, the producer of the livestream having changed angles.

As was usual, Fusion streamed and uploaded the complete recordings of its press events on its own website. Just because John didn’t particularly care for leaving the narrative completely in the hands of news organizations that he didn’t know. It was unlikely that a lot of people would go through the trouble of actually watching those streams, given the media cuts were much higher in quality, but having those things out there for things that may have gotten cut out was sitting well with him.

“You there,” John picked someone at random and an aide quickly walked towards the reporter. It was a person with the body of a person, but the claws and the face of a praying mantis. How somebody even managed to write articles in that form was beyond him.

“Are there any new developments in the war against the Lake Alliance that the public should know about?” she, at least judging by the tone of her voice, asked with only a minor undertone of clacking mandibles.

“Our strategy against the Lake Alliance remains purely defensive right now,” John answered swiftly; this was one of the questions he had anticipated. “Fusion didn’t want this war and we don’t intend to fight it until we can bring it to a swift end or if we are left with no other choice. The Hidden Tradition has agreed to guard part of our border while the southern pacification reaches its conclusion.” The reporter seemed ready to continue, but John quickly stated. “No follow-up questions, I need to be elsewhere soon.”

Although the praying mantis woman continued to talk regardless, with the microphone quickly taken from her mouth, her voice barely reached John’s ears as he picked the next person. A living heap of slime, unshapen and honestly grotesque, raised its squelching voice. The Gamer couldn’t help but think he was looking at some sort of Nurglite demon. Thankfully, this one didn’t stink. “Wiiiilll the reeeceeeent taaaax increases persist paaast the waaar?”

“In all likelihood, yes,” John answered honestly. “And they might get a bit higher even, but nowhere near what people paid before Fusion took over. They might get lowered again once our international trade is operational. For the moment the funds are necessary to pay our soldiers.” ‘And to give Scarlett the means to buy up Amacat from within,’ he silently added.

“Mhm, the day is indeed,” she sighed, dropping back in the velvet chair. The look in her eyes changed to a mischievous coaxing. “How about the night, then? You could always cum on my show again. The one time we had was cut rather short.”

‘Oh, she’s good,’ Siena laughed inside John’s mind. ‘I wonder how loud this little kitty can purr.’

John ignored her in favour of trying to suppress his growing erection despite his waning attention to things not firm, jiggly, bouncy, wet or a combination of the four. “That would work, whenever you can make time for me. I will be occupied for a little while, but I’ll make sure to write you when I get back.”

“How about tonight?” Cindy put it directly. “We can make special room for you, I am sure.” Bowing over the table, her hands travelled towards him like a cat on the prowl. Her smile revealed a pair of tiny fangs, as white as pearls.

“I... don’t have time tonight,” John had to regretfully inform her. “Still too much to do.”

“Tomorrow?” she kept pushing and the Gamer kept wanting to cave. As quick as he could, he checked his schedule on Saturday. If there was one thing he missed about school, it was having weekends off guaranteed. He had to attend the opening of a new police station on the west end, make an inspection of the harbour, do paperwork, continue his rehabilitation training and squeeze some normal sex in between all of that.

‘If I agree, I won’t be able to sleep for more than two hours, in all likelihood,’ John thought, remembering what more he had to do on the following morning, making sure everyone knew how to reach him and who was in charge of what in his absence. However, one glance at the catgirl’s boobs and he finally found a solution. “I can’t do Saturday either,” he told her, watching her ears sink like airless balloons. “Do you do shows on Sunday?”

“Normally not,” she immediately perked up again, smelling the hope in the air. “But we can put up a special, I am sure of it!”

Since John would be leaving on Monday, he could make up for lost sleeping time by napping on the train. Unlikely to be the most pleasant experience, but he would survive. Not like he had to be at Lake Champlain at any given time, he just didn’t want to waste anymore than he had already.

“Alright,” he nodded, “you make sure of that with your producers and let me know at least 12 hours in advance, okay?”

Cindy nodded repeatedly and when they got up to depart, hugging him again, she grabbed his junk during the motion. Gasping, she stepped back. “I am looking forward to this,” she smirked widely, and John returned the favour by slapping her on the firm ass in the miniskirt as she stepped out the door.

“As am I,” he said, as if that wasn’t abundantly clear already. Then the wood separated them and John relaxed. No matter how much he wanted to push Aclysia against the nearest wall right now, the next opening in his schedule for sex wouldn’t come about until he had a clear conscious in regards to this other thing he needed to do today.

After all, there was someone that could hardly be left unobserved while he was gone.