Chapter Text
The mayoral candidate stage was set and ready for the day’s big announcements, marked with decorative banners and flags and balloons that caught people’s eyes and pulled them in for the festivities. A soft breeze blew through the city park, brushing against the trees and providing a cooling touch in contrast with the fair sunlight that beamed down to the generous crowd that was gathered in front of the stage and podiums as they whooped and cheered in anticipation.
Beacon Hills was a relatively small city, so things were done differently when it came time to elect somebody as their mayor. Somebody could theoretically run and score an unlimited number of consecutive terms so long as they participated in all of the usual candidate public engagements, filled out and submitted all of the necessary paperwork, and won in a free and fair election as decided by one’s own pupils.
Ennis was a proud native to the city of Beacon Hills and he was about to score his fifth consecutive term as the mayor—as far as he was concerned. The reality was that he wasn’t very concerned at all. The people of Beacon Hills loved him and the charming way that he went about fighting for the city’s history and security. The mayorship was up for reelection every three years and in the past fifteen years, Ennis ran completely unchallenged with relative ease.
To his constituents, Ennis was just so good at doing his job and looked so goddamn handsome in a well-made suit, that naturally there was nobody else in the city best suited to take on the role as mayor. It was nothing more than a fool’s errand to even challenge him on the ticket. However, Ennis credited his wins as mayor to his own genius and to the clever ways in which he made certain that potential political threats often reconsidered running against him.
It was ten minutes to showtime as noted by the small clock inside the makeshift green room tent that was set up behind where the large announcement stage attracted more people and the reporters from local stations. Ennis remained unbothered by the last minute rush that swarmed around him in the tent while a makeup woman softly patted down his face with something to help him look even better in front of the cameras outside. But then, Ennis’ calm was abruptly interrupted by his clumsy assistant crashing into the tent.
“Uh—Mr. Ennis, sir—the stagehands finished their microphone troubleshooting and everything’s running smoothly on that front—” Stiles, the nerdy twink mayoral personal assistant to Ennis said hurriedly, as though time was running out. “But, uh—there’s a problem with the podiums.”
“How the fuck can there be a problem with the damn podium?” Ennis growled, batting away the makeup woman’s arm so that he could focus his fury towards his poor personal assistant.
“Well—there’s two of them.” Stiles explained.
Ennis’ eyes tightened into a horrible glare. Nobody in the tent seemed to want to step up and explain to him what the fuck was going on. Two podiums? It meant that somebody else submitted the paperwork down at city hall to get onto the ticket, which was odd considering Ennis’ sway downtown. Ennis usually got the heads-up about any brave wannabe opponents and personally asked them to kindly forget about wanting to be mayor—unless they wanted some not so nice things to get put out into the press about them.
“How cute .” Ennis grit through his perfect teeth. He was forcing an amicable smile, but there was nothing but an icy wind blowing past where he was glaring towards his personal assistant. “And just who’s the lucky duck that wants to run against me for mayor, hmm?”
“That was an error on my part.” Derek said, stepping into the tent with a confident grin on his face as he walked over to where Ennis and Stiles were standing. “I meant to have my team send over a gift basket for well wishes, but I got so wrapped up with filming my campaign commercials.”
“That was a real shitty way to burn cash, stranger.” Ennis said cockily, reaching out to take the man’s hand for a crushing shake to assert his power. “Campaign commercials are quite the hit on a nice wallet, I should know—I’ve done this for fifteen years.”
“My name is Derek Hale—” Derek said firmly. “And don’t worry, I’ve done quite the research on this city and its longstanding tradition of letting you play mayor—”
“Oh, that’s good, very good, Derek —” Ennis scoffed. “Then I’m correct in assuming that your little school boy research taught you that I don’t lose elections and that you just blew a good chunk of change on campaign commercials that won’t ever see the light of day.”
“Well, I believe in a good, free and fair election.” Derek said professionally, flashing his stupidly perfect white teeth. “And if the lovely people of Beacon Hills agree to have me, I’ll be your new mayor.”
If Ennis were being fair, he’d say that sure—Derek certainly looked the part. He looked like an overgrown boy scout that legitimately wanted to do good for the city and had a face like a wet dream nobody would ever get tired of having when they slept. The sharply-tailored deep blue suit that Derek was wearing made certain that anybody who saw him out there on stage knew he was no stranger to the gym and well bred with enough good manners to clean up before speaking to the public.
But as much as Ennis wanted nothing more than to rip out Derek’s throat and tell the stagehands outside that a second podium was no longer needed, Ennis smiled—both outwardly and inwardly. He knew that Derek had so foolishly stepped into a trap that he would never be able to get himself out from. There was a reason why past challengers to Ennis’ hold on the mayor title seemed to always drop out at the last minute or disappear without a forwarding address. And Ennis was lucky this time, because Derek actually looked like he was built for the kind of fun that his persuasive negotiation tactics entailed.
“Candidates call, everybody.” A stagehand popped his head into the tent and pulled both Ennis’ and Derek’s attention. “We’re taking the stage in two minutes, exit the tent and take your place at the curtain.”
“I’ll see you outside, Mr. Ennis.” Derek said confidently, exiting the tent. “I look forward to hearing your speech to the city.”
“You should probably cooldown for a second and get your composure back before heading outside.” Stiles suggested innocently. “You don’t want to let your voters see you frazzled because there’s somebody else running.”
“Oh, Stiles—you’re so thoughtful.” Ennis said with a dangerously fake smile, patting his large hand on the back of his personal assistant’s back. “Run along and find your place in the crowd among our reporters. I’ll make sure to wave to you from my place behind the podium.”
Ennis waited until he was completely alone in the tent, letting his manufactured smile falter into a grim frown. He took out his phone and thumbed through his contacts before landing on the one under the name—BRAIN BLINK INC., which was an underground professional photography company with very special and very useful technology built into their cameras. And as the processional music outside started to play, drawing loud applause from the crowd, Ennis shot off a very clear and concise message.
[ENNIS, 3:31 PST] : Use press badges to get to the front. My new friend Derek is running for mayor and he photographs very well.
[BRAIN BLINK INC, 3:32 PST] : Understood.