Scene: A quiet room, dimly lit. Obama sits across from Joe Blondie, papers spread across the desk. The air is heavy with secrecy.

Obama: Joe, the official story is clean. Bin Laden was buried at sea, and the bounty… well, Washington likes to forget about that part.

Joe Blondie: (leaning back, arms crossed) Forget? Twenty-five million dollars doesn’t just vanish into the ocean with him, Barack. Somebody’s got to decide who gets it.

Obama: You know how these things work. SEAL Team 6 isn’t supposed to talk, and the Treasury won’t put a bow on it.

Joe Blondie: (firmly) Then I’ll make it simple. Five million for me. Twenty million for the widows.

Obama: (raising an eyebrow) The widows? You mean the wives of the men who went down in that chopper crash?

Joe Blondie: Exactly. They paid the price. The families paid the price. Blood runs deeper than government payouts.

Obama: (sighs, rubbing his forehead) You realize if I even whisper this plan, I’ll have a dozen agencies crawling down my throat.

Joe Blondie: (leans forward, eyes cold) Then don’t whisper. Just make it happen. Those men deserve more than folded flags.

Obama: (pauses, looking at Joe for a long moment) You’re a dangerous man, Blondie. But maybe… maybe the only kind this country needs.