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The sun sets on the Capitol in Washington D.C. Two men occupy an office on the Senate side of the building. It is October 5, 1919, and the world stands read to be thrust in another direction.

An aide stands before the desk of his boss. The sweat coming off of his brow emphasizing the point he has, for hours, strenuously tried to make.

"Mr. Vice President, you must take action. The country, better yet, history, would expect you do nothing less."

The man standing behind the desk, hands folded behind his back, sighs as he looks out his window to the setting sun. It wasn't that Thomas Marshall wasn't a man of conviction. He had served for the last decade in they eye of the public. First as the Governor of Indiana then, in 1912, as the running mate of the Woodrow Wilson. It was, as he believed, only the schism in the Republican Party that had assured them of victory. He had served as President Wilson's faithful lackey for six years. He had whipped votes in the Senate, and had crossed the country advocating for war bonds to support the U.S. effort in the Great War.

Still, he always felt underappreciated by his boss. He had been locked out of cabinet meetings, and relegated to the Senate offices. And for what? Making jokes to the occasional visitor to the White House? He was, at best, a mouth piece to support the war effort. The Armistice was signed, but what good could he do now?

Perhaps here was his chance, but was he conflicted. He was a lawyer by trade, and a respecter of the Constitution. Where was the precedent in this?

As all of this raced through his mind, he felt conflicted as to what to do next.

"Mr. Johnson..." Marshall stated tiredly "You are most incorrect. History will not judge me for what I do next. It will judge me for what I do after that."

The sun was now set outside of the Capitol. Perhaps it was a blessing.....or worse, an omen.
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