[center][img]http://s24.postimg.org/7w8sidrl1/The_Executive_Branch.png[/img][/center] [b]Executive Branch Headquarters Mt. Rushmore, SD 03:44 Local Time[/b] "Remember me..." William Henry Harrison floated through the halls of the Executive Branch's headquarters. Although the middle of the night, plenty of staff were busy at work doing the agency's secret business. Most of them ignored the ghost of Harrison, those that acknowledged him only showed annoyance at being distracted from their task. This was Harrison's lot in life, a burden had to bear for centuries. Harrison's life was filled with triumph. He had ben a war hero, a governor, and a diplomat before assuming the presidency... but all everyone remembered him for was dying in office a scant month after being inaugurated. It was all because of Tippecanoe. The Battle of Tippecanoe, shortly before the War of 1812, ended in a smashing success for the US. Harrison's men defeated a band of natives led by the shaman Tenskwatawa. The victory made Harrison a household name in the country and led to his eventual rise. But the glory came at a horrible cost. Tenskwatawa, though not as martially gifted as his Tecumseh, fought back in his own way. The shaman cursed Harrison in revenge for the battle and over two hundred years later he was still cursed. His untimely death was made crueler when he was brought back to serve the Executive Branch. A complication in resurrection killed him again. While Harrison's body died, his soul stayed on earth and now he haunted the corridors of the Rushmore headquarters. "Remember me...," he said softly to a technician as she passed by. "Okay, President Harris," the young woman said without looking up. "That's not my name..." Harrison floated after the woman. She went into a room with Harrison behind her. He phased through the closed door and into the gymnasium area of the HQ. Franklin Roosevelt sat on a pommel horse in workout attire. The white tank top he wore showed off his large upper body muscles while the baggy sweat pants hid his withered legs. Roosevelt swung his limp legs around the pommel horse with ease as his upper body did the work. "Incoming communication, sir," the technician said as she approached FDR. "It's from Lumberjack." "Oh, dear," Roosevelt said as he flopped onto the wheelchair beside the pommel horse. "Let's go, dear. Not a moment to lose." "Remember me...," said Harrison. "Will do, Henry," said Roosevelt. FDR pushed through Harrison's incorporeal form and sped out of the gym towards the communications center with the technician and Harrison trailing in his wake. --- [b]MacArthur Island South Pacific 13:53 Local Time[/b] "Suppose you boys can't just fight me man to man, huh?" Abraham Lincoln countered a blow from a guard, twisting the man's wrist and sending him flying into another attacking guard. All told there five guards trying to take down the Great Emancipator. The fight was taking place in the island compound's communications center. Lincoln broke in and managed to establish connection with Rushmore before the assailants broke in and tried to stop him. While outnumbered, Lincoln towered over the smaller men and made up for his numerical inferiority with combative superiority. His long, spindly legs, delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to a guard, throwing him against a console and sending a shower of sparks into the air. "Lumberjack," the voice of Franklin Roosevelt came through the comm center's speakers. "This is Sacred Cow. Come in, Lumberjack." Lincoln grabbed an attacker's wrist with his large hand, stopping a knife blade inches away from his chest. He tripped the man and slammed his head hard into the comm center's control panel. "Lumberjack here," said Lincoln. "Rifleman and I think it most prudent to deploy our weapon of last resort." There was a long pause from Roosevelt as Lincoln fended off more attacks. Finally he spoke. "Are you sure, Lumberjack?" "No time to explain, Sacred Cow, but rest assured it is of vital importance that the entire island be sterilized." "Understood. I demand confirmation of target's death before evacuation, Lumberjack. You have twenty minutes until sterilization." "Lumberjack, out," Lincoln said as he shoved another man into the console and short circuited it with the man's head. --- [b]Executive Branch Headquarters Mt. Rushmore, SD 04:02 Local Time[/b] Amelia Earhart did the final check of her equipment before starting the stealth bomber's engines. The four nuclear-powered jet turbines kicked on and hummed softly in the nearly empty hangar bay. A team of crewmen did the final preparations underneath the plane before signaling that it was ready for takeoff. She gave the crew a thumbs up and started down the runway towards the open hangar. Within a few seconds the jet was roaring out the open mouth of Thomas Jefferson and gaining speed and altitude. She broke the sound barrier sixty thousand feet above Idaho. Ten minutes later, she broke the sound barrier eighty thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean. She was so high now that she could see the curvature of the earth stretched out across the horizon in front of her. If not for the grisly circumstances, it would be a breathtaking flight. The satellite coordinates on her HUD provided an easy path to follow across the Pacific towards the target. She would pass through several time zones and the international date line to deliver her cargo. The back part of the bomber was lead-lined to prevent any accidents should the package become unnerved. This wasn't her first bombing run with the weapon of last resort, but it was the first one in quite some time. She sent out a silent prayer that it wouldn't be as devastating as the last time.