[IC] The Fighting Fathers: An Alternate History RPG

[Byrd Man]

Southern Ural Mountains
0312 Local Time

<This is bullshit,> Pyotr said in Russian.

He squatted down on his haunches and watched Alexi slowly climb down a metal ladder into a shallow pit. Flood lights rigged above the two men basked the entire area in a bright halogen glow. They were both dressed in jackets and boots with winter caps. Alexi had a pickaxe strapped to his back.

<Yes it is, Pyotr,> Alexi said with a chuckle. <But we're getting paid extremely well for this bullshit.>

<We are scientists. We are men who deal in fact and logic. This is nothing but nonsense.>

Alexi stepped off the ladder and looked down at the ground. The backhoe could only dig so deep in the hard soil. With the first seven feet of topsoil now removed, Pyotr and Alexi would do the rest. He pulled the pickaxe off his back and waited as Pyotr adjusted the floodlights above. Once Alexi had adequate lighting, he started breaking the soil up with the axe.

<It's not so bad,> Alexi grunted between swings. <We get paid ridiculous amounts of money to spend a few months in the Urals pretending to be Indiana Jones.>

Pyotr came down the ladder with a shovel strapped to his back. He removed the spade and stuck it into the earth with a sigh. Tightening his jacket against the cold, Pyotr leaned against the dirt wall of the hole.

<Just think we could be better served back at University and not here, digging for trinkets in the mountains.>

Alexi wiped the growing sweat from his brow and tossed the axe down on the dirt. He shed his coat and handed it to Pyotr.

<Go back up and take this with you. Find my bag, I've got some Vodka in the front pouch. You're always a cheery drunk.>

Pyotr laughed and started back up the ladder. The promised vodka was right where Alexi said it was, a half a pint of the sweet liquid still left inside the bottle. He tossed the the jacket down beside the back and pocketed the vodka.

<Hey!> Alexi yelled from the pit. <I think I found something!>

He started back to the hole. The loud, blood curdling shriek from Alexi stopped him in his tracks halfway. His hesitation was only momentary, and he started pounding for the pit. Another shriek from the pit was so loud it hurt Pyotr's ear and buckled his knees. He fell down into the hard dirt. The floodlights above popped off, each bulb breaking one by one before casting the whole area in darkness. Pytor's heart raced as he tried to crawl in the dark, away from the hole and whatever was down there. The screams had done something to him, he couldn't focus and his thoughts were muddled and confused. Something strong wrapped itself around his ankle. He yelled and tried to push away from it, but it was locked in on his leg.

The thing pulled and Pyotr screamed as whatever it was dragged him through the dirt. He tried to find any sort of handhold or purchase on the ground as he whizzed by, desperately thrashing out for some sort of lifeline. Pyotr felt himself down into the hole with the thing. He felt like he was falling for a half second before he landed on something. It was wet, squishy, and it had teeth.

And that was when the real screaming began.

25 Hours Later
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
Executive Branch Headquarters

Heavy clouds of cigarette smoke filled the operations room. The six mission control operators sitting behind monitors quietly did their job while the director of operations sat in silence in his wheelchair, puffing away on the unfiltered cigarette wedged into the holder in his mouth. The large global map occupying the front of the ops room showed the entire world in a green glow, with displayed points of interest marked in red.

"Bring up POI 8713-12," the director said.

One of the operators hit a button. The map on the wall shifted to a display of information and pictures and data. The director watched the data flow by, his brain running calculations and numbers with the speed of a computer. After all the data was finished, a blinking display summed up with the director already knew would be the next step.

URAL MOUNTAIN SITE
25:42:10 SINCE RADIO SILENCE
POTUS INCIDENT INTERVENTION: RECOMMENDED

The director took a heavy pull off his cigarette and expelled it into the air in a long, billowing cloud. Finally, he spoke to the young technicians monitoring their respective maps.

"If any crises pop up while I am away, I am to be told right away. But for now it's business as usual."

The electric wheelchair noiselessly glided across the ops room. The door leading to the corridor slid open, and Franklin Roosevelt rolled out of the shadows and into the light. He started tapping buttons on the wheelchair's armrest as it sped down the hall, activating holographic display of the ops board in front of him. Beside the board were names, some listed in red while others were green. He picked six green names and highlighted them to activate their communication feeds.

"Attention," he said in a clear and calm voice. "This is Mr. Roosevelt. There is to be a briefing in the conference room in ten minutes. Your presence is required."

[MST3K 4ever]

There were many places within the Executive Branch that Ulysses S. Grant enjoyed. He appreciated the library's alternate computer simulation program. Which allowed him the opportunity to fight different wars. He re-fought the Civil War on the South's side and won, and also re-fought the Vietnam War and this time America won. However the other room Grant enjoyed was the gym in the sub-basement. Grant didn't care for the modern equipment or any of that on the second level he liked being able to keep things simple. The boxing ring allowed him many opportunities to spar which Grant loved doing early in the morning and there was always one person who gave him a good fight.

As a rule there were few others in the Executive Branch who could go toe to toe with Ulysses S. Grant with one possible exception Dwight D. Eisenhower. Eisenhower was gifted with the ability of second sight meaning he could see things before they happen. Which gave him the ability to counter Grant on many occasions, but that didn't always mean victory because Grant usually needed just one solid shot to send Eisenhower down to the canvas. The trick though was finding the right moment and the right opening. On this day the two former Presidents had been fighting for hours and both men were soaked in sweat as they moved around a dimly lit boxing ring.

Eisenhower said, "You read to give old-timer. This Kansas farmboy has been working on some new moves and now is the time to end this."

Grant snorted and said, "Shut up and fight Ike."

Eisenhower motioned for Grant to step forward and said, "Come an get some U-S!"

Grant started to move in and then backed out as Eisenhower lunged forward. When he did Grant then pivoted and landed a glancing blow on Eisenhower's mid section to which Grant said, "Gotta keep an eye on that flank Ike."

Eisenhower recovered quickly and landed a solid shot in Grant's chest. Hits like that didn't hurt Grant in the least but he would have to roll with the punch otherwise Ike could break his hand. Grant started a counter attack, but then there was the summons issued by Roosevelt.

Grant and Eisenhower both dropped the guards and immediately took of their gloves. Eisenhower would be needed in the ops center right away and Grant would need to be at the meeting.

Eisenhower asked, "Same time tomorrow?"

Grant nodded and replied, "Of course."

The two men shook hands and said at the same time, "Well played sir."

Grant was on his way for his meeting as Ike made his way to the ops center.

[Byrd Man]

Executive Branch Headquarters
Subbasement 4

"Agnew!"

The tall frame of Spiro Agnew shuffled down the dark corridors of Nixon's study. Ancient leather bound books sat on the rows of shelves Agnew passed. Along with the books were jars of organs and small creatures pickled in formaldehyde. A dismembered hand floating in the liquid tapped the glass as Agnew walked by. The former vice-president ignored the hand's taunts and kept walking. The hand twisted itself to show Agnew its middle finger.

Agnew came out of the corridor of shelves into the study's rotunda where all the shelves met. More books and specimens cluttered large wooden tables. A spider the size of a German Shepard scuttled across a table and disappeared under it. Racing after the spider was a spider of equal size but appeared to be made out of ropy vines. Agnew looked at the odd and unusual sights with bored contempt before casting his eyes up.

"Yes, sir?" He mumbled in a monotone voice.

In the middle of the study, floating cross-legged above the rotunda, was Richard Nixon. The 37th US President's usual suit and tie had been swapped out for a set of dark robes and a hood. He started drifting back down to the ground, finally unfolding his legs just before they were inches from the floor.

"Yes," Nixon finally said. "Did you collect the samples I need?"

"Yes, sir." Agnew reached into his jacket pocket and handed Nixon three vials. "One vial of pig blood, a lock of hair from a virgin, and the wart from Harry Kissinger's backside."

"Good man... especially on that last one."

Agnew shuddered while Nixon pocketed the samples into his robes. While his former vice-president shuffled off, Nixon hurried down one of the rows of books to find what he needed. He pulled a book bound in human skin from the shelf and began to thumb through it.

"I... have a dream..."

Nixon looked up from his reading and sighed. He put the book under his arm and walked through the study towards a large pane of two-way glass. One the opposite side of the glass was Martin Luther King Jr. King sat on a metal slab, mumbling and jerking in his sleep. Sweat trickled down his brow as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I have a dream... That the no-god from the no-place has breached the fabric. Yes... I have a dream that six will depart and five will return. Yes, Lord. When the two-in-one men howl, the man of Hickory shall rise to the occasion... I have a dream that the son of the Republic will be consumed by the gnawing and gnashing teeth of the void. From the mountains of Russia, to the deserts of Africa, from Mississippi to Mongolia, the no-god's darkness will consume the earth. I have a dream... "

Nixon stepped away the glass, wiping sweat from his forehead that he didn't know was there. He shook his head and stepped away from the now sleeping King. The communication device on his wrist chirped with an incoming message.

"Attention, this is Mr. Roosevelt. There is to be a briefing in the conference room in ten minutes. Your presence is required."

The line went dead. Nixon ran his fingers through his hair with his left while rigging up an transportation spell with his right. When the spell finished, he disappeared from the study in a puff of gray smoke.

[Archangel89]

Training Room
Executive Branch Headquarters
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota

The echoing of his thick, heavy boots on the cold steel gave the Great Emancipator a sense of quiet focus. As he walked to the weapons rack and placed his coat gently upon it Lincoln's mind began to whirl with memories of the past. In the decades since his resurrection he often pondered his actions prior to the event, it almost haunted him. He knew he had done the right thing by freeing the slaves but his actions seemed to be the focal point of hundreds of years of conflict. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt his mind thought back to the night that he died.

John Wilkes Booth, the name had been brought up several times to him. This man marched into his private booth placed a gun to the back of his head and fired one shot into his brain. Lincoln's hand instinctively reached back to the base of his skull and felt the small circular indention. This too had haunted him. As the memories of the past began to overrun him he placed his hands on the oaken handle of an all too familiar weapon to him. The great ax brought memories of his childhood when times were simple and with the strength of a mans arms and the sweat of his brow could the impossible be accomplished.

As he placed the iron head of the ax on his right shoulder, Lincoln started up the simulation bots which took an offensive stance around the former president. At once all of his thoughts slipped away and his mind went blank. Nothing but the sound of the whirring gears and steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. Lincoln felt a bot from behind him begin its attack protocol and charge at him. It was met by the flat-hammer like head of the ax, sending it falling to the floor. Three more charged at him together, each met the blade of the ax and each fell split in half like a log. Before the final bot could attack Abe heard an all too familiar beeping of his watch.

Lincoln walked over to his jacket and quickly threw it on. If he was being called that can only mean that Roosevelt discovered something that required immediate attention.

[Enarr]

The Courtyard, The HQ of the Executive Branch

"OPEN FIRE!!!!" Screamed the seventh president.

Few men know pain as well as Andrew Jackson, America's former president number seven. He never knew his father. His dad died three weeks prior to his own birth. He joined the military at age thirteen, then he never looked back. He was captured by the British along with his brother. They both contracted smallpox. And Andrew was slashed by the sword of a British officer.

A sharp crack rang through the air as Andrew Jackson's skull exploded.

No one dared question old hickory when he issued a command. Not even when it was to destroy him. Several men lowered their guns as they awaited the return of the gruffest president ever's face.

Like clay being molded, the cells of his face returned and rearranged themselves into something recognizable. With that done, he reached his hands up, grabbed his chin, twisted, and crikked his neck.

"Attention," a calm voice from Andrew's watch called. "This is Mr. Roosevelt. There is to be a briefing in the conference room in ten minutes. Your presence is required."

That said, Andrew dusted bits of himself off of his shirt and then stood tall.

"At ease!" He called, motioning for the men to leave while he did the same.

[ErsatzEmperor]

The Executive Branch
The Gym

'Row! Row! Ro--'
'...Row?' the other replied, snarkly.
'Eye front, Mr Lewis. Keep up. Your ma and pa know they raised a slouch?'

Death has a strange way of changing things. Opinions. Perspectives. Sure. The values we hold dearest to us. As soon as death becomes a tangible threat, as we are confronted with out own mortality, people begin to plan for the afterlife. They say that only two things are absolute. Lewis and Clark were living proof to the contrary.

'Back straight!'

A dying man might indeed dream of the afterlife. Their own little slice of heaven. They might even pray, might they? Be they god fearing like Clark, it comes with the territory. Some people don't. What can be certain is that Meriwether Lewis did not pray for this.

'We're done here...' He starts, taking his hand away from the apparatus and forcing a scowl. 'I'm not wasting anymore of my afterlife on a machine.'

Easier said than done. As Lewis pulls one leg off the side sharply, the other remains planted on the rowing machine. for it was not his own. And it was stuck. Stuck, with no amount of force shaking it.

'Sit your ass down,' Clark started, quietly. The taskmaster in his voice gone, now only contemplative judgement. 'We are not moving from this machine,' Clark states.

William Clark was a military man. Excuse the fact that he was drafted home on sick leave; he was brutal. He was assertive. He was not moving from that spot without good reason. It is for this reason that the two look at their watch so suddenly.

>>:"Attention. This is Mr. Roosevelt. There is to be a briefing in the conference room in ten minutes. Your presence is required.":<<

That could do it.

[Byrd Man]

My fellow presidents," Roosevelt said to the four former presidents at the conference table. He nodded at the two explorers sitting side by side. "Captain Clark, Captain Lewis.... I also called Mister Kennedy to this briefing, but he appears to be... indisposed... We shall--"

Nixon scoffed loudly before clearing his throat. Roosevelt stared coldly at Nixon, sucking on his cigarette holder before expelling smoke from his mouth.

"As I was saying, we shall endeavor to make due with Captains Lewis and Clark subbing in for Mr. Kennedy. Please turn your focus to the far wall."

The large monitor on the wall kicked on. Walls of numbers and data cascaded down the screen before the view shifted to a map of Russia. A bright red dot in the southwestern part of the map pulsed. A label identified the pulsing dot as Chelyabinsk. A video beside the map started playing a bright ball of fire falling from the sky before exploding over the Russian countryside.

"This meteor entered Russian airspace last year. The heat from the atmospheric arrival caused a massive explosion that destroyed most of the meteorite in the process. The majority of the rock that made it through the atmosphere ended up in the Ural Mountains and nearby Lake Chebarkul. The Russian government and the global scientific community identified most of the meteorite fragments as ordinary chondrite."

Roosevelt waved a hand at the screen. The picture shifted to a zoomed in satellite photo of a piece of snow-covered land with several buildings grouped around each other in a semi-circle.

"Our spy satellite Nelson picked this site up after the official inquiry into the meteor was closed. Our operative codenamed PINBALL was sent into the facility to investigate. Through PINBALL's investigation we were able to identify an excavation project funded by one Konstantin Shastin."

FDR nodded, the monitor changing to a picture of Shastin, a trim middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, surrounded by other well dressed men as well as Saudi businessmen wearing the traditional Keffiyeh on their heads. Newspaper articles on Shastin and magazine covers flanked the photo and painted a picture of extreme prominence and wealth for the Russian.

"Shastin is a billionaire. He owns half the oil fields in Azerbaijan, the biggest telecom company in Russia, and is on the Executive Branch's watchlist. Shastin was a member of the Communist Party in the 80's, a member of the Soviet People's Geology Committee. We have reason to believe he has ties to the Secret Soviet Union, and has used his status with them to further his monetary gains. The site was put on immediate observation after PINBALL's discovery. We've been watching as they dig for something in the mountains, something related to that meteor. Almost twenty-six hours ago, the entire site went dark. No radio communication, no traffic in and out, and as far as we can tell no heat signatures from our satellite observations.

"Your mission is to travel to the Urals with our science team and investigate the cause of the radio silence. I have assigned you each roles. General Grant will coordinate and lead the investigation. Mister Lincoln will act as Grant's second. Mister Nixon will be there in case magic was involved. General Jackson will lead a tactical team to act in support of our field investigators. Lewis and Clark, you will lead a small scouting party in advance of the science team's arrival, clearing the area for the Executive Branch's scientists. You'll be wheels up and on the way to Russia within the hour. Any questions, comments, or general insight?"

[Enarr]

Andrew Jackson tugged the ends of his bowtie and then looked at his fellow presidents. He raised an eyebrow before being the first to speak his mind.

"The time is at hand, not for philosophy--but for action! I have but two questions: What gentlemen will I be leading, and with what weaponry will we be doing battle?"

He thrashed his right fist around over the table, before slamming it down on the once mighty tree.

[Byrd Man]

"I've assigned tactical team Blue to your command," said Roosevelt. "As for weapons, I leave that up to your judgement but I assume standard breaching and assault weapons would be in order."

Roosevelt's chair glided away from the wall and stopped at the head of the table.

"If that is all, then I will dismiss you. Assemble any equipment or gear you need and rendezvous at transport hangar 3 in twenty minutes."

[MST3K 4ever]

Grant looked at FDR and nodded he pushed away from the table. He pulled a thumbdrive out of his coat and downloaded the information that FDR had just shared. Once it was done Grant said, "Need to study this information a little more closely. Besides it'll give me something to do on the plane. I hate flying on those damn things."

Grant left the briefing room and stopped off at his quarters. He grabbed two colt 45's, some extra ammo, put on a large black overcoat, a black hat, and of course a bottle of Bourbon.

On his way to transport hanger 3 he Ike and said, "Going out of town for a few days. Looks like we'll have to settle up when I get back."

Ike stuck his hand out and said, "See you when you get back Old Man."

Grant shook his hand and said, "Get back to the gym kid you need to work on your right cross."

The two men studied one another and then just gave one nod. Though there was a bit of a rivalry between Grant and Ike, but there was also deep and abiding respect for one another. Both men had seen the horrors of war and had troubling issues to deal with in their time as President. Those times were in the past but both were aware that like so many other times history had a habit of repeating itself.

Grant arrived in the hanger and the ground crew saluted. Grant returned the salutes as he boarded the transport. He got his favorite spot towards the back with a computer and began reviewing the information. He looked around and pulled out his bottle and began to take sips as he waited for the others to arrive.

[Archangel89]

On the way to the Hanger
Executive Branch HQ
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota

The Ural Mountains. Lincoln kept mulling the information FDR gave to the group of agents around in his head. The sound of his boots echoing through the halls once again brought about a clearer sense of thought, which turned to his partner for this mission. Mr. Grant, the superhuman powerhouse seemed to overshadow Lincoln as he slid his hands over the two one-handed axes on either hip and knowledge of his familiar oak handled "battle ax", as he called it, he was confidant that he could hold his own in the field.


As the plane came into view Lincoln couldn't help but marvel in the sheer technological masterpieces that have evolved from the minds of great men. He made a mental note to pick the brains of the Wright brothers once their missions was complete. As Lincoln made his way into the carrier he saw Mr. Grant sitting in the back going over the information that FDR had given. Taking his place beside the powerhouse Lincoln thought it best to get to know his partner.

"Hello there Mr. Grant"

[MST3K 4ever]

Archangel89 said
The Ural Mountains. Lincoln kept mulling the information FDR gave to the group of agents around in his head. The sound of his boots echoing through the halls once again brought about a clearer sense of thought, which turned to his partner for this mission. Mr. Grant, the superhuman powerhouse seemed to overshadow Lincoln as he slid his hands over the two one-handed axes on either hip and knowledge of his familiar oak handled "battle ax", as he called it, he was confidant that he could hold his own in the field. As the plane came into view Lincoln couldn't help but marvel in the sheer technological masterpieces that have evolved from the minds of great men. He made a mental note to pick the brains of the Wright brothers once their missions was complete. As Lincoln made his way into the carrier he saw Mr. Grant sitting in the back going over the information that FDR had given. Taking his place beside the powerhouse Lincoln thought it best to get to know his partner. "Hello there Mr. Grant"

Operations like this was something that Grant hated. He loved the open field and being able to see his opponent and his opponent could look him in the eye and know he was facing a man not afraid to die. Grant also hated the fact that the man they were going after was a billionaire. This wasn't a man who had any kind of military breeding and was nothing more than a leech and a crook that should be left to the international community. However if PINBALL was hurt or killed and this leech had something to with it then Heaven help him, because he would know the wrath of Ulysses S. Grant personally,

Grant was aware that others would becoming on board soon and he was starting to put together a rough idea on how best to proceed. However Grant learned during the war always be ready to change any plans at a moments's notice, value the input of others around you and proceed with caution in unfamiliar settings.

He turned off the computer for a moment when he saw someone else boarding. Grant figured it polite to be at least sociable for the time being.

Grant looked at Mr, Lincoln and gave a slight nod and said, "Mr. Lincoln" and offered him his bottle Bourbon.

[Enarr]

The Armory, Executive Branch HQ
Five minutes prior to the meeting in the Hangar

Jackson looked at a wall filled with various weaponry and tactical gear hinged on it. Already on him were several various items, including a sawed-off shotgun that was hanging on his back. He looked the wall up and down one last time before reaching for a boomerang throwing axe designed especially for him.

While Lincoln had the gigantic battleaxe, not even he could count on catching a boomerang-axe every time he chucked it. But Andrew didn't have to. If he didn't catch it correctly, he just had to remove it from his torn flesh, heal, and carry on.

He looked back at Tactical Team Blue as they prepared for the coming mission. They were well armored fellows with weapons belonging very much in the present day. Andrew narrowed his eyes and looked at them before he called his troops to follow him outward.

"Attention! To the Hangar!" He said, twisting on his heel and marching out of the armory.

[Byrd Man]

Subbasement 4

Nixon rooted through his arcane study, the ghoulish Agnew at his right and waiting to please his master.

"Mr. President, can I he--."

"Not now, Agnew! Have you seen my pouch of chaos gems?"

"To your left, sir."

Nixon picked up the pouch covered in a dark leather not unlike human skin. He opened the pouch slightly. A bright light and the sounds of several voices wailing roared out from the opening. He snapped it shut quickly and nodded before pocketing it into a side pocket on his robes. With the gems secured, he pulled another artifact from his pile of magical weapons. A pristine full metal jacket copper bullet.

"The magic bullet," he said ruefully. "Never leave home without it. Now, I need to go, Agnew, I'm needed for a mission."

"Sir, perhaps you could let me--"

Nixon disappeared in another puff of smoke before Agnew could finish. The disgraced former vice president shuffled down the halls of the library, muttering obscenities under his breath.

[Archangel89]

Hanger

Lincoln smiled and nodded his thanks as he took the bottle and took a deep swig of the warming liquid. The last time that he remembered having a drink was sometime during his presidency, and he had to admit that he really couldn't remember when that was exactly. As he handed the bottle back to the great military general, Lincoln couldn't help but admire him.

Forgetting his reason why he was there, Lincoln made a point to bring up the mission at hand.

"What do you make of all this? As far as I can tell there should be no reason that the whole site would go dark. Furthermore PINBALL concerns me, perhaps what ever these scientists were "supposed" to discover proved to be more valuable than first thought."

[ErsatzEmperor]

The Hangar

The walk to the plane had been brisk. It had to be. Clark was not going in blind. They had to prepare. While Lewis's leg would drag a little, Clark's was bounding in front. The sight may well have been humorous, if viewed from the outside.

The duo entered the jet-black beast, walling along it's gut to find an adequately sized surface or table. When this requisite was met they stopped, rather more abruptly.

"The Ural Mountains, eh?" Said the elder.
"Hmmm. Where's the map Merriweather?"
"In the satchel, you bore. Can we never just sit down and enjoy the ride?"

With some effort the two, and their corresponding arms, attempt the loosen the bag of their right shoulder. Gently bringing it onto the table. As the sounds of other feet cross the threshold, they remove their GPS and sit down.

"I hate this thing."
"I know."

[Byrd Man]

80,000 Feet Above Earth

The supersonic stealth jet sliced through the stratosphere at speeds approaching Mach 3. The high altitude and speed meant that the plane was already across the international date line, halfway to Russia despite leaving from South Dakota an hour ago. The pressurized hold of the jet kept the plane's inhabitants safe from the extreme hold and thin air of the upper atmosphere. The light gravity meant they all had to wear special straps around their waist and chest to keep them from drifting away in their seats.

The special agents from the Executive Branch along with their support personnel were all strapped in for the flight. Nixon sat stoically with his sleeves together. He sat and pondered Martin Luther King's earlier prophecy and how it would come to pass. To his right were Lewis and Clark and the three science officers sent to investigate the crash sight. To Nixon's left sat Jackson and the twelve armed and armored tactical squad members Jackson commanded. Lincoln and Grant sat towards the cockpock, close to each other and talking amongst themselves with an ease that only presidential contemporaries and friends could muster.

"This is your pilot speaking," the voice of Amelia Earhart said through the overhead speakers. "We are now over Russian airspace, prepare for turbulence as we descend for landing. We should be back on the ground and disembarking within twenty minutes."

[MST3K 4ever]

Archangel89 said
Lincoln smiled and nodded his thanks as he took the bottle and took a deep swig of the warming liquid. The last time that he remembered having a drink was sometime during his presidency, and he had to admit that he really couldn't remember when that was exactly. As he handed the bottle back to the great military general, Lincoln couldn't help but admire him. Forgetting his reason why he was there, Lincoln made a point to bring up the mission at hand. "What do you make of all this? As far as I can tell there should be no reason that the whole site would go dark. Furthermore PINBALL concerns me, perhaps what ever these scientists were "supposed" to discover proved to be more valuable than first thought."

Grant nodded and said, "Kinda like the beginning stages of a war if you don't got good information. You just go in blind and hope for the best. I've seen a few too many situations like that."

Grant took the bottle back and had a swig. He set the bottle back down and said, "From what I can tell so far I think your guess of these scientists finding more than they counted on is accurate. Just going on what we know at this time of course. We should be able to come up with more accurate answers once we hit the ground."

Then came the announcement of turbulence and landing and Grant shook his head as he said, "My least favorite part of this whole thing. Makes me feel like we're gonna plummet right out of the skies." Grant looked out the window at Russia and he found it interesting that inspite of the political differences Russia reminded him a lot of Pennsylvania. He appreciated the rustic look combined with the modern touches and smiled a bit.

He looked back to Lincoln and said, "Regardless though this guy is a parasite on humanity and needs to be dealt with."