This is before Saving Liberty, duh.

Ladies an gentlemen, a few days ago the Unity was attacked. The Unity, for the uneducated, is a city. A huge, bone-amored beast attacked a city. My city. And this was not random. Not some monster who wanted to kill innocents. No. Sam was almost shaking with rage, as he recalled the attack. Or at least, he was appearing to. The beast was Joseph Octavian. This is proved by a DNA sample. Which I hold here in my hand. But no need to trust my word. Six independent labs have confirmed this, and I am awaiting confirmation with the CIA. But all the tests have proved that the creature contained the DNA of Mister Octavian, most likely mixed with an unidentifiable second component to give him this monstrous form. He is no commander in chief. He is a madman. That will be all. Sam stepped away from the camera, and they began broadcasting.

Sam remained silent. The silly orange jumpsuit and cuffs chafed a bit, but he put that aside, his mind on other things. Specifically, a next move. His armor would respond to him still, but that necessitated a place to be. He searched through a mental lis of assets... Project Triad. Of course. "Gentlemen, I give you a chance to flee."

"Huh? What're you--" Sam spun, the metal pieces of his armor shattering the cuffs, and zapped both guards non lethally. He dialed up Project Director James. "Alex. Activate Project Triad. I'll be there in.. ten minutes."

"Yes, sir." Sam looked back at the prison, a big hole in the roof, and several helicopters. "Dammit, Donn."

Triad 1.

"Sir, there are over 45,000 still-loyal soldiers from all of your projects, as well as an estimated 15,000 willing to defect from the military for you. How would you like us to proceed?"

"I'd like to change out of these clothes. Then we can talk."

Sam emerged from his quarters a minute later, looking much more well-groomed. "Lift Triad One. Cloak the other two and have one on each coast. Someone bring me a cup of coffee. And a camera." The ground shuttered, and the helicarrier lifted off the water, high enough to see the Great Lakes below.

Sam addressed the camera directly. "Today a great wrong has been done. And you are being lied to. I assume you all have heard, by now. The people involved are suspect. So this is my response. I am not a criminal. I came to Director Donn asking him to protect this country, the country that I love. Instead, he lied to me and sided with people who will destroy this country. I say no more. We will save America, by any means. Have a good afternoon." He moved from the frame, revealing the deck of Triad One, and his loyal men.

HA! HAHAHA!

Mr. Washington, many have called STRIKE a vigilante organization, or rouge nation, after they severed tis with the United States. What say you?

First off, I'd like to say that I have no grudge with Tyrus, or any of her employees. I respect the good work they do around the world. But we do not need unsanctioned "world police," unanswerable to anyone. Governments were created for that very reason, to make people with any sort of power answerable to a higher power, but one duly elected. No one asked STRIKE to do what they d, and f they decided to kill innocents, there is no way to stop them but by force. As Vice President, I have constructed several ways to do what STRIKE does around the world, with people who know there will be consequences for doing wrong. Most are classified or in development, but you've already met the Titanium Legion, our international emergency response team. STRIKE will be welcomed back with open arms, and fully funded, if Tyrus chooses to swallow her pride and stop holding a grudge. But in my opinion, they are illegal vigilantes, and cannot be allowed to operate if we wish for civilization to continue. After all, what if I decided I knew what was best for America, and took the law into my own hands, killing who I saw fit?

Relevant questions welcomed.

Mr. Washington, many have suggested that your weakness lies in domestic affairs, while your strength is foreign policy. How would you, for example, handle the Mutant Rights situation?

That's a great question, thank you. I think that the real solution is far from simple, but that we have to face up as a nation to the fact that the current situation is wholly unacceptable. Hate crimes against mutants, both from cops and ordinary citizens are going unprosecuted, despite evidence, simply on the basis that mutants are subhuman.

On a related note, how would you handle peace talks with Venezuela, a nation comprised almost entirely of mutants?

I think that I'd try to acknowledge that both sides have made mistakes, and that both nations need to move forward if we are to end this petty an unnecessary conflict. Of course, my opponents would tell you that Venezuelans are terrorists and mutants must be registered to protect "Sapiens." To this I say that we have not had an openly racist president in almost two hundred years, and I would not like to have another now.

What of the allegations that you are secretly a mutant yourself, and have a hidden agenda?

I'd like to state that those "allegations" are simply part of a smear campaign directed at me by radical supporters of... well, my opponents are two rich people with no political experience, and a man from a city that is practically run by crime lords. Perhaps I'm not the most worthy candidate out there, but I'm the only one who's running.

Any inaccuracies will be edited, no snark necessary. ;)

Sam Washington touched down on the stage lightly. He was still getting used to the armor, but he could finally land without crushing what was beneath him. The Legion was behind him, looking much more graceful and professional. The faceplate slid open, and he began his speech.

"My name is Sam Washington. You probably know me from the last campaign, and the whole 'VP' thing. You might have guessed why we're here, but before we get to that, I'd like to tell you a story. I was sixteen. Tall, strong. Worked on my dad's farm. Grew up hearing about the Vietnam War. Wanted to enlist. On my birthday, the day I could legally, I snuck out in my dad's car, drove to a recruitment center in the nearest city. Signed up, and went home proud. My dad smacked me harder than anyone would in fifteen years of fighting." This, as it usually did, elicited a laugh. "Now, I ended up Colonel, but before that, I got shot. Firefight in the streets, goes to hell. These guys are running away, one starts shooting. Hits me straight in the guts. My friend, he sees the guys running, he thinks to himself 'I can shoot at them, I can get them. Hell, get a medal, probably.' But he looks down, and he sees some jackass bleeding out next to him. He picks up him gun, hits me from the shoulder, and uses the rifle like a crutch. We limp back to base. Guy in charge, he's pissed. He wants to know why the guys we were chasing got away. My friend, he says this. He says 'Sam got shot.' And that's all he needed to hear. That's loyalty.

Now, my friends here are from the military as well. They're the Titanium Legion, an initiative I championed as Vice President. They're here to protect us, at home and abroad, however they can. And with your help, I'd like to as well." Sam picked up the mic, spun around, and dropped it, as the Uncle Sam '16 banner unfurled.