[center][img]http://s24.postimg.org/7w8sidrl1/The_Executive_Branch.png[/img][/center] [b]MacArthur Island South Pacific 14:07 Local Time[/b] The thick metal door blew off its hinges and landed on the floor with loud crash. Theodore Roosevelt stepped on the door and entered the room. He gripped te automatic rifle in his hands tightly and looked across the room. The opulent throne room was decked out in the same style of Emperor Hirohito's Chrysanthemum Throne with dark red silk carpets and drapes. In place of a Japanese imperial standard on the walls, there was another symbol. Five silver stars arranged in a pentagonal cluster. On the golden throne at the other side of the room, Douglas MacArthur sat and looked at Roosevelt with half-closed eyes. Two armed guards that flanked both sides of the throne were already drawing down on Roosevelt, only to be waved off by MacArthur. "You and Mr. Lincoln are proving to be quite the bee in MacArthur's bonnet," said the general. "I should have killed the two of your as soon as possible." "The Executive Branch feel the same about you, general," replied Roosevelt. "Reviving you is one of the worst mistakes they made, and considering their history that is saying quite a lot." "Desperate times, Mr. President." MacArthur stood and began to walk towards Roosevelt, his bodyguards walking with him. "The thing you must ask yourself, Mr. Roosevelt, is why are you really after MacArthur? What has he done to warrant this aggression?" Roosevelt began to open his mouth but stopped as MacArthur held a hand up. "This latest endeavour aside, sir. MacArthur will admit this plan is just cause for retribution, but what did he do before that? Why did the Founders try to kill him all those years ago?" Roosevelt was at a loss for words for once. He had no idea what the original circumstances were that led to the first attempt on the general's life, his banishment from the Executive Branch, and his decades in hiding. He just knew that he had done something wrong and a team of agents had tried to kill him. "He figured as much," said MacArthur. "The crime MacArthur committed, the thing that marked him as a dead man, was that he discovered the truth." "What truth, sir?" The general let a grin slip out from under his steely facade. He shook his head, as if he were trying to explain something simple to a dense child. "There is a rot at the heart of the Executive Branch. Your masters are not who you think they are, their intentions are not what they profess to be. MacArthur discovered this a long time ago, and he was punished for it." "So this is your revenge, general?" asked Roosevelt. "Remake the world in your twisted image? You ally with a genocidal warlord to conquer the world?" "Indeed," was the general's reply. "The Khan, like MacArthur, realize that sacrifices must be made. What, in the long run, is a few million in the name of protecting billions?" "Genocide in the name of world safety," spat Roosevelt. "You will indeed be a shining idol for the next age." MacArthur began to reply, but was cut short as an announcement boomed through the compound's PA system. It was in Japanese, a language Roosevelt did not speak, but he could tell by the tightening of MacArthur's face that it was bad news. He scowled and turned to Roosevelt. "A bomber has been spotted on the advanced radar. Thirty minutes out. Jets are being scrambled to take care of it. It seems as if you have sold MacArthur out, Mr. Roosevelt. Such a shame. He had hoped to convert you to his side." The general said something to his two guards in Chinese. The two men nodded and quickly rushed Roosevelt. The stripped him of his weapon and held him in place while MacArthur walked to the far side of the room where a collection of samurai swords hung on the wall. He took down two and looked back at Roosevelt. "MacArthur knows he should kill you outright, but he has always been a man of honor, sir. If you die, it will be by his hands." The general tossed the blade and scabbard down at Roosevelt's feet. "This is your chance, Mr. President. Grab the sword and complete your mission. Do what no one else has done yet and kill MacArthur." -- Abraham Lincoln pressed his large frame against the wall and tried his best to hide in the shadows. A group of armed guards rushed by, oblivious of the lanky man a few feet away from him. He waited a few moments before emerging into the corridor and hurrying on his way. Now that FDR had been notified and the bomb was on its way, the next leg of the journey was to find Roosevelt and help him dispatch MacArthur before fleeing the island's impending destruction. The part of the compound he was in had multi-language markings that identified it was the science wing in Chinese, Japanese, and English. He had no idea if Roosevelt or MacArthur were in this part of the base, but he had to hurry up and look. With a knife at the ready, Lincoln opened up a door marked "Labs" and went inside. He was surprised to find a chubby, bald Asian man in a lab coat looking at him from across a lab table with wide eyes. To Lincoln, it wasn't a look of fear. It was more surprise mixed with hope. "You!" He said in perfect English with just a hint of a Chinese accent. "You're one of the Americans? You have to help me! Close the door." Lincoln complied, keeping the man in his sight all the while. The scientist stepped around the table and put both hands on Lincoln's shoulders, shaking him. "You have to get me out of here! I've been kept here against my will for years now. I--" "Slow down," Lincoln said softly. "Find your composure, friend. Speak clearly, but quickly. Time is of the essence." "Okay," he said after a deep breath. "My name is Dr. Hsien Wu, I am a geneticist. I died many years ago, but the people who run this place brought me back to life and put me to work creating the genetic coding and enslavement system they're trying to take over the world with." "The Khan and his descendants?" Lincoln asked. "Yes," Wu said excitedly. "My system is a mix of high-power satellite broadcast that overwrites the genetic coding. In short, it will make everyone on the planet with a drop of the Khan's blood become his slave. Millions and millions turned into mindless killing machines. You have to believe me, sir, I was forced into it. I did not mean to build these horrible machines. I just--" "The people I work for are sending in a bomber to destroy this facility, doctor. Will that be enough?" "They have backups offsite, sir. We need to destroy them remotely from MacArthur Island." "Where can we do that?" "One place," Wu sighed. "The place where the Khan's spirit is being kept." Lincoln nodded and, after a second of deliberation, said, "Show me the way, doctor. After we destroy it we'll see about getting you out of here." -- "Shit!" Amelia Earhart said loudly. Still three hundred miles out from the island she was to bomb, her advanced HUD notified her that six fighter jets had been dispatched from the island and were racing towards her current location. Her jet had no offensive weapons on it. The only defensive weapons were the chaff she could fire off in the event a missile was locked on her and already en route. The biggest thing she had was her speed. This stealth bomber could rip through the sound barrier several times over and not really break a sweat. It left all conventional aircraft in its wake. She could outrun the jets easy enough, but with six of them already forming a perimeter around the island, it would be tough going to evade them all [i]and[/i] deliver her payload. The HUD let out a brash warning, letting her know the jets were slowly getting closer and closer. Earhart muted the notification and strapped the cross belts tight against her. Even though the days of open cockpit flight were long gone, she still wore the goggles on the top of her head. They were her good luck charm. Now, she slid them down over her eyes let out a deep breath. She flicked on the jet's PA system and delivered a message to the weapon in the back. "This is your captain speaking. We are about to engage in evasive maneuvers, so please make sure you are buckled in tightly. We will experience turbulence and the occasional missile explosion. In the event of a crash, the plane will turn into a flaming metal death trap. Thank you for flying Executive Branch Airlines. We hope you'll fly EB Airlines again, that is if you survive this flight." Earhart heard a wry laugh through the lead-lined cabin door and let a laugh slip from her lips as well. She punched the throttle and held tightly to the yoke as she started to sing softly to herself. "Heading into twilight, spreading out her wings tonight. She got you jumping off the deck and shoving into overdrive. Highway to the Danger Zone! Ride into the Danger Zone!"