Theodore Roosevelt, Ghost Buster
President Theorodre Roosevelt paced relentless around the Oval Office. A faint scent of pipe tobacco hung in the air as William Howard Taft, his successor, sat in a lare armchair. There was look of bewilderment on his face.
"A ghost, Theodore?" Taft asked incredulously with a high-pitched squeak.
Roosevelt stopped his pacing. He turned towards Taft and gave him a steely gaze.
"Not just any ghost, William. This one is controlling the Standard Oil Trust. It is the one lurking in the shadows, influencing the shareholders and manipulating the stock market. It's become a menace to the very fabric of our nation!"
Taft just blinked.
"But how can a ghost control an oil trust?" he remained skeptical.
Roosevelt grestured towards a large, ornately carved box sitting on his desk.
"This is the latest invention from that Edison fellow. He had it made according to my specifications. His engineers have dubbed it the spiritograph. It allows us to see and track spectral entities. And my deputies have already seen a trail of ectoplasm residue all over Standard Oil."
He opened the box, revealing a small contraption made of copper with vacuum tubes and spinning gears. Taft could hear a faint hum coming from it, along with a whiff of ozone.
"That is remarkable," Taft murmured, leaning closer. "But why you? Why not send more deputies?"
"Because I'm the only one with the grit and determination to face this spectral menace. Besides," Roosevelt added a wink. "It's been much too long since I've had a good hunt."
The clatter of train wheels echoed down the opulent Pullman car. Teddy Roosevelt had returned to be a private citizen. Taft's electoral victory was sprawled out on the front page of the paper. His eyes, though weary, held a spark of anticipation. New Orleans, a city steeped in history and the supernatural, awaited him.
He had written ahead to a renowned psychic named Madame Patel, who owned a shop in the French Quarter. She was renowned for her experiences with the uncanny. As he stepped into the dimly lit parlor, the air was thick with incense.
"Ah, Mr. Roosevelt," Madame Patel greeted him in a soothing melodic voice. "I've been expecting you."
She gestured towards a worn armchair. As he sat down, the cushions sank beneath his weight.
"So, you're seeking advice on how to combat a spectral oil baron? Is that right?"
Roosevelt nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"Precisely. I've got a spiritograph, a trusty six-shooter, and a whole lot of gumption. But I could use a bit more knowledge on what I'm facing."
"Very well then," she chuckled. "Let's dive into the ethereal. Ghosts, Mr. Roosevelt, are bound to the earth through some sort of talisman, which could be a specific location or object. You cannot fight them head-on. You must first sever that connection. A powerful cleansing ritual or a well-placed silver bullet would suffice."
She paused, staring deep into Roosevelt's soul. He felt himself growing increasingly nervous to be in her intimidating presence.
"And remember, Mr. Roosevelt, even the most fearsome ghost is vulnerable to the power of human will. Approach it with courage and you'll find it's not as invincible as it seems."
Roosevelt stood, ready to continue his adventure.
"Thank you Madame Patel. Your wisdom is invaluable."
The Transcontinental Express rattled across the expansive plains of the American West. Roosevelt leaned against the train window, watching the landscape pass by. Days of relentless travel had finally brought him to the heart of California, where the spectral oil baron was said to be lurking.
His final destination was a hunting lodge owned by John D. Rockefeller. This, he believed, was the headquarters where the ghastly entity was exerting its influence over the nation's oil industry. Roosevelt kept glancing at the spiritograph in his suitcase. He felt ready to confront the menace.
As he stepped onto the lodge's grand porch, he felt a chilly wind in the air which sent a shiver down his spine. He looked down at his hands, holding the humming spiritograph, and could see goosebumps forming.
This did not appear to be an active hunting lodge where Rockefeller claimed to spend months during the summer. It was shrouded in an eerie silence, with a broken door and tarnished by neglect.
Roosevelt stepped inside. The interior was a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors. Dust along the windows cast odd shadows in every room. Each step caused the rotting wood to creak, amplifying the sense of solitude.
Roosevelt paused as he entered what seemed to be a grand ballroom. Chandeliers hanging overhead were draped in cobwebs. A sudden gust of wind suddenly extinguished the few remaining nubs of candles, plunging the room into darkness.
The spiritograph began to spin wildly as a faint luminescence appeared in front of him. A ghostly figure materialized from the shadows.
This was it, Roosevelt realized. The spectral oil baron formed, a translucent apparition with piercing eyes.
"You've come a long way, Roosevelt," the ghost said in a chilling whisper. "But you cannot stop me."
The air crackled with tension as Roosevelt and the oil baron faced off. Roosevelt felt his heart pounding as he reached into his coat pocket for his pistol with the silver bullet.
"You've gone too far," he growled. "Your reign of terror has led to an end right now."
The ghost let out a cackle, a sharp sound that echoed through the room.
"You underestimate me, Roosevelt. I am more powerful than you can imagine."
With a swift movement, the ghost lunged at the gun in Roosevelt's hand. Its spectral form grew blurry. Roosevelt fired the silver bullet with a faster reaction.
The projectile pierced the ghost's ethereal form, causing it to dissipate into a cloud of mist.
The candles in the room suddenly flickered back to life.
As Roosevelt's eyes readjusted to the light, a new figure emerged. Roosevelt dropped the gun, recognizing that person all too well: William Howard Taft. The new president stood there, his face contorted in a sinister grin.
"You thought you could defeat the ghost, Roosevelt, but you just allowed me to succeed," Taft sneered. "I am the master of the supernatural. I was the one who summoned the ghost, gave it power, and used it to manipulate the market to my own ends."
Roosevelt was stunned. He stumbled backwards. That was his former friend, a man he had trusted with the vast power of the nation's executive. And now he was betrayed in the most unimaginable way.
"Taft? Why?" he asked.
Taft simply shrugged.
"Power, Roosevelt. For power. It's a seductive thing."
With a defiant cry, Roosevelt charged at Taft. But the new president, with a mere flick of the wrist, summoned a spectral barrier that repelling Roosevelt's attacks.
"You can't stop me," Taft cackled with as much evil as the ghost. "I will only grow more powerful."
Fog began creeping into the room. Roosevelt looked for an opening, but couldn't find any. He cursed under his breath, having no plan for how to defeat his new foe.
Taft stepped into the fog and his body soon vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Roosevelt was left standing on his own, feeling overwhelmed.
It was dusk in the sleepy town of Princeton, New Jersey. Orange rays of light peeked through the green leaves of oak trees. Theodore Roosevelt sought refuge in the cool, ivy-covered halls of Woodrow Wilson's home.
Wilson had been rumored to be seeking a presidential term but had not yet made an announcement. But as Roosevelt spent the last year struggling against his foe, it was clear he needed help.
"Theodore," Wilson began, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I have heard much of your recent ordeal. It truly is a bizarre affair."
Roosevelt nodded, his face etched with exhaustion.
"Indeed, Woodrow, a most peculiar situation. I fear that our nation has been infiltrated by forces beyond my understanding. I do not think I can hold these forces back on my own."
Wilson leaned forward. "I assure you, Theodore, I have no knowledge of any such occurrences. I am a many of science and reason, not superstition."
Roosevelt was skeptical but couldn't deny the sincerity in Wilson's words. Though they disagreed on many policies, he had admired Wilson's intellect and his commitment to progressive ideals.
"I believe you," Roosevelt affirmed. "But we must remain vigilant. The world is a strange and mysterious place. There are many things beyond your understanding as well, no matter how much your science tries."
"And now what do you propose?"
"I have heard from some of your Democratic allies about your future plans."
"I am always one to make many plans. But that doesn't mean I shall follow them."
"You must. For the sake of the nation."
"Where are you going with this? Would you really risk your power for a three-way electoral fight?"
"Through my time in politics I've seen the problems that can accrue when one powerful figure acquires too much power. I've worked tirelessly to bust up trusts, sometimes with unlikely allies. And now I have one more trust that needs busting."