The Pennsylvania debate was already setting into horrible. And that was before the fire started.

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The two people standing at the lecterns set into the arguments and personal attacks roughly five minutes in, but that had happened in the Wisconsin and Tennessee debates. Plus a whole slew of others.

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It had begun harmless enough. Take two mildly popular political pundits and have them fight it out, head to head, across twelve of America's blessed states. The debate, at this point, was hardly even relevant.

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Amy Rose was a die-hard feminist to her roots, which were a rather interesting shade of maroon on the week of the Wisconsin debate, when her opponent had joked that if she wanted to abolish the wage gap, (noting then with a pointed finger that he didn't believe in anyway.) that she should have considered doing a degree in STEM fields instead of Gender Studies.

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Her response had been fairly measured and pleasant enough, but five minutes after the debate was over her opponent tweeted a picture of his arm. There were small trenches of skin missing from his left arm as if he'd been clawed by an animal.

The next day, Amy Rose tweeted a picture to her fans. It was of a small metal keepsake box, one that might contain a child's baby teeth, containing thin strings of the skin from her opponent's left arm.

The picture was adorned with five winking emojis.

 

The opponent himself was Connor Hawkins, known Republican and anti-feminist, known for his sharp suits and penchant for both wearing sunglasses inside and flashing his perfectly white teeth whenever an opportunity arose.

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After the Wisconsin debate was wrapped up and lunch was called, Connor snuck into Amy's personal tour coach whilst she was talking to some of her fans and signing copies of her latest book "My Angry Breasts".

He spent a while trashing the coach and finished off by pouring a handful of laxative tablets into the ground coffee that sat in her coffee percolator and left just as she was heading back.

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Two days of the tour were cut off.

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And all of this didn't include the online spats that happened almost hourly, the fans of both parties assaulting each other in any way possible and the constant emotions that lived at a constant boiling point with no way to simmer the pot. Until Pennsylvania.

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On the day when everything changed, there was a call for lunch early and both parties stropped over as they tended to do, to their dressing rooms specifically located on exact opposite corners of the building.

Whilst Connor and Amy were out of action and the large crowd filed in a disorderly fashion out of the hall, many of them holding red placards and others holding blue signage, somebody did something.

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Somebody did something that changed everything.

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It was a little tricky, but well worth it given the outcome. Hell, I'd had my suspicions about the two of them for a long time.

Nobody takes extraordinary amounts of time out of their personal lives to bully or hate someone unless they're either stupid or there's other factors at work. And given the fact that both are incredibly intelligent, one a graduate of Rutgers and the other an Ivy League Scholar, I'm going to assume the latter.

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Everyone who packed back into the auditorium is either supporting the right-wing man or the left-wing woman, nobody taking the time to take both sides into account. As they screamed and railed against each other, I couldn't help remember an article I read about the sheer extent they went to to terrorise each other online.

If you get out of bed and the first thing you do before emptying your achingly full bladder and filling your empty and growling stomach is to go online on your phone or computer and load up social media to target and harass someone, calling their particular brand of ideology evil and positing that they deserve to be shot in the head... Well, it takes a certain kind of feeling to do that. 

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At least, that's what I'd been counting on.

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It was a bitch to sneak them in, but I managed it. Security were tight on explosives and guns and other devices used to harm and used x-ray scanners and sniffer dogs to stop would-be political martyrs, extremists and suiciders. I managed to get through though, because the security detail missed what I had.

I went in shaking and pretending to be cranky. When I was stopped by the bald beefcake on the door, he checked up my sleeves and found hundreds of plastic squares seemingly taped to my skin. 

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"Nicotine patches." I mumbled. The guard ripped one off to reveal that yes, indeed it was a nicotine patch. I caused a little scene by yelling about the incompetence of the man who did and he blushed scarlet and let me through with four packs of cigarettes and twenty BIC lighters.

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I deposited the cigarettes in the trashbin outside the lobby. They were a minor extra tweak to the counterfeit that I hadn't needed. Besides, those things'll kill ya.

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The lighters had tops that looked fairly realistic, but could be taken straight off as they weren't attached with anything at all.

Whilst the room was free, I emptied all twenty lighters over a bunch of vacant unused chairs by the side of the stage and checked my watch.

Two minutes.

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I got back to my seat and pretended I hadn't been meddling as people began to hurry back in for the next part of the debate to begin. Usually the second act was the most vitriolic and hateful and so most bloggers and filmmakers turned up only for the second half.

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As it filled up, I tested the mobile in my hand by lifting it up to reach the light filtering through one of the heavy curtains. The light coming in would be just enough.

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When it started, nobody even noticed the man with the trigger in amongst the other clamour of phones snapping, cameras clicking angrily and words being thrown. I moved my mobile a few inches and the sunbeam reflecting off of the screen danced towards the wet chairs coated in lighter fluid.

They went up in flames immediately and the reaction was instant. 

Most of the room were straight out of the door, chairs were flung, people screamed.

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And in all of the madness two people were frozen stock still on the stage. Which was, of course, part of the plan. The fire spread and ate its terrible way up the curtains and across the main front of the stage, licking at the wooden podiums. Beams fell and splintered as the fire coursed around the two. 

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I made my way out, hoping for the best. I looked through the blazing inferno whilst making my way through to the parking lot and felt less than hopeful. The two were still arguing. The building was on fire all around them and they wouldn't stop. Nothing would stop them.

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There was a sickening crunch and the door mantel fell in followed by the windows which began to fracture. Smoke trickled out of the glass cracks.

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There wasn't much hope left. 

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I'd almost given up when I remembered the side door of the giant town hall and ran as fast as I could in that direction and what I saw was nothing short of utterly beautiful.

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The fire door stood ajar as a man in a ripped and dirty suit staggered through, his hair and clothes a mess. He was holding his opponent in his arms, who was clinging on to his white shirt by her chipped pink fingernails, never wanting to let go. She seemed to be searching his eyes for safety and he stared into hers with nothing but raw fear, probably the first time he'd ever expressed that, out of the fire but still hunched and huddled over her. 

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There was no real sense of valour in his face, or of heroism. There was no sense of fragility in her face or eyes, no meekness or worry. 

They were two veteran poker players who had kept playing cards at the eye of the storm only to find themselves dropping their hands when embracing each other became more important, revealing everything on the table. 

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I'm almost certain that they had always loved one another in their own selfish ways. And with every argument pitched and point parried and objection hurled, they both became more and more frustrated that they'd never have the chance to find mutual ground.

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And so I made it for them, the mutual grounds in the ashes of the town hall.

It later became known as one of the worst building fires in Pennsylvania history, causing the taxpayer around two million dollars in damages.

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That was two years ago.

From what I hear they're still together, working through their feelings together on a joint tour and something of a novelty to the rest of the world. Since the new touring debate show is less incendiary now and more about understanding and remembering to care for each other and the importance of loving and being loved despite personal beliefs, the ratings have dropped massively.

 

But from what I see, the new format is a complete success.

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And if I have to burn down another building to save two people from themselves?

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I'll fucking do it.

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