「Washington D.C. The Senate Office Building.」
Russell Warren tossed a polling report into the shredder.
The machine let out a grating screech, devouring the pages that showed his declining support in Western Pennsylvania.
He had underestimated the cost of this blockade.
State police had set up roadblocks on the highways, which not only stopped trucks heading to Pittsburgh but also blocked the commutes of countless ordinary voters.
The small business owners who had once supported him were now calling his office and screaming bloody murder.
Their goods couldn't be shipped out, and raw materials couldn't get in.
Representatives from the logistics association were on Capitol Hill every day, threatening to pull their political donations to the Republican Party.
Warren sat in his chair, his brow deeply furrowed.
That young mayor had five hundred million in cash and had actually managed to stabilize the situation just by paying the workers.
