Byrd Man

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

"Now, if ya don't get out the water we're... gonna be forced to have to ask ya again, this time not so politely."

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

That might be it. Lenin España.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Did you base him on someone? He looks vaguely familiar.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

When Last We Left Our Heroes

MacArthur Island
South Pacific
14:07 Local Time

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 and 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!"

@Byrd Man

MacArthur Island
South Pacific
14:14 Local Time

Metal clashed and sparks flew. Douglas MacArthur snarled as he swung low with the blade of his katana. The sword clanked against the blade of Theodore Roosevelt's and sent the general back on to his heels. The two figures moved through the shadows of MacArthur's throne room. The general's armed guards looked in impassively as their master fought for his life.

"You have more vigor than your nephew, I'll give you that," MacArthur wheezed as their duel hit a lull. "But you lack grit. That's the problem with you silver spoon types."

MacArthur charged Roosevelt. The general sliced and diced while Roosevelt parried a furious attack from the man.

"You court danger for fun and life experience," MacArthur shouted between blows. "You fight with the detached bemusement of an aristocrat. You have no idea of what it means to fight for ones life. When MacArthur was twenty-three, he killed two Filipino bushwhackers."

Roosevelt let out a cry of pain as the tip of MacArthur's blade sliced into his shoulder. His knee buckled, but he composed himself long enough to fend off another round of blows. Quickly, he scampered back away from the general.

"MacArthur did not have to raise an army with his daddy's money, MacArthur did not kill a couple of underequipped Cubans and call himself a hero. He did not use his family's influence to get a desk job in President Wilson's Navy. He fought, he led men into battle, he saw the enemy face to face."

While MacArthur prattled on in third person, Roosevelt wiped sweat from his forehead and tried to figure out his next move. He was a skilled fighter, but the general was much better with the samurai blade. His study so far had revealed one flaw in the general's form. When MacArthur swung, he always did so in a series of three. On the third swing, he continued to expose the right side of his ribcage. It would be close, but if he was quick enough he may just deal a serious blow to MacArthur.

"And MacArthur always fell short," Roosevelt said softly. "Everyone remembers Ike, Patton, and even Marshall for their skill and fighting ability. All anyone knows of MacArthur is the corncob pipe and Korea. Pomp and incompetence, that's your legacy. No amount of stars, no amount of field marshal batons, no amount of medals will make up for the fact that he tried so hard to be better than his own father... but just like his father, he was fired by the president."

MacArthur's aloof face twisted into a mask of rage. His eyes went wide and he yelled as he charged Roosevelt. Theodore held his ground and fended off the wild hacks from MacArthur's sword. When the third blow was coming, he saw his opportunity and took it. As MacArthur was swinging high, Roosevelt went low and stabbed forward with his sword. The blade pierced the general's ribcage and went up into his organs. He stopped mid-attack and stumbled backward, blood pouring from his abdomen.

Roosevelt wrenched the samurai sword from MacArthur's hand and spun around. The two armed guards who had been observers were running towards Roosevelt with their guns out. He threw both swords at them and watched as the blades buried themselves in the men's chests. They collapsed to the ground before they could even get a shot off.

"Mr. Roosevelt..."

Theodore turned and saw MacArthur on the ground. Blood pooled around his body and soaked his kimono. The general's face was pale and pasty looking. Whatever damage Roosevelt had done to his insides, it was working quickly.

"There's a gun in my kimono," he whispered. "The inside pocket. It's small, but it should be enough to put me out of my misery."

Roosevelt got on one knee and reached into the blood-soaked pocket. As he tried to find it, MacArthur's cold and clammy hands grabbed his forearms and pulled him in close.

"The truth about the Executive Branch," he whispered into Roosevelt's ear. "What I found..."

Roosevelt pulled himself back a few seconds later. He had no response to the information he had just received, or even how to process it. In his hand was a small four-shot derringer. Big enough to do the job.

"What I said was true, Mr. Roosevelt," he grunted in pain. "Every word. Maybe you can change what I could not. Now, go ahead and do what needs to be done.'

Roosevelt cocked the hammer of the derringer back and aimed for MacArthr's head. The general looked at him and nodded.

"Old soldiers never die they just fa--".

Two small gunshots from the derringer cut MacArthur off and ended his life.

----

Amelia Earhart pulled down on the control yoke and held her breath as the nuclear stealth bomber did a spinning dive towards the water. Four fighter jets followed her down into the spin. From her HUD, she was at least three different missile locks from the pursuing fighters and the two in a holding pattern above the island. It was a hard fight, but so far she had managed to evade the fighters as she got increasingly close to the island. They were currently a half mile out from the drop zone. If she could just--

A missile exploded above the diving jet and sent the craft spinning out of its planned path. Earhart looked at her HUD and attempted to right herself before the jet spun into the water. She jerked on the yoke and sent it spinning sideways. She hit the throttle and blasted up into the air, leaving the out of control fighters still free-falling. Her display informed her that two crashed into the water while the other two were still righting themselves. The hairs on the back of her neck tickled. This was it.

She increased speed and blasted towards the island drop zone. The two jets above the island broke off their holding pattern and started to chase after her, but she knew that they were too late. The jet was too fast and she was too good to let them catch up and take her down before she delivered her package above MacArthur Island.

"Thirty seconds," she said into the PA. "I'm opening the door now. When the light goes green, do you thing."

In the back of the bomber's lead lined cargo hold, the hydraulic bomb doors opened up. A rush of freezing air came roaring in with a ear-piercing howl. The passenger didn't mind the noise, and he especially didn't mind the cold. He never got cold since he was brought back to life. The things he could do, heat was his problem. The scorching heat of atomic energy.

With atomic energy pulsating from his hands, Harry S Truman adjusted his necktie and glasses. The light above his head went from green to red. He leaned forward and disappeared out the bomb doors. The roar in his ears was loud, but it was rapidly fading. Replacing it was the sound of sizzling as every cell in his body prepared to release the energy it had stored. Each cell had the energy of the original atomic bomb that devastated Hiroshima, and each cell would release that energy on impact.

From twenty-thousand feet above the earth, Harry Truman closed his eyes and prepared to unleash nuclear holocaust.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Not much but it gets us moving.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Sick Bay

"Prep examination rooms three and four for triage, and keep the first three ORs open and on standby in case that away mission goes sideways."

The members of Carter's medical staff agreed and scurried off to do their tasks. He stood near the front entrance with his tablet, monitoring the current condition aboard the ship. Orion and the Dominion ship had exchanged fire with damage to both parties, more so to the Dominion ship than to Orion. Carter was expecting casualties to roll into Sick Bay quickly, but from all reports there would be no serious and life-threatening injuries.

The real concern was for the away team. They'd beamed away just a few minutes ago into unfamiliar and unfriendly territory. There was no doubt that they would came back with at least some wounded or dead.

"Captain's coming," one of the orderlies reported as he pushed a hover gurney by. "My buddy on the bridge just told me she's coming down here."

"Why?" Carter asked with a furrowed brow. "Doesn't she have enough to do up there?"

"She's banged up, apparently," the orderly said, disappearing around the corner.

Carter cursed and eyed the entrance. With a crisis looming, the last thing he wanted was the CO hovering over his shoulder and watching the medical staff at work.

"Nurse Dera," he called to his Orion nurse. "Prep exam room five instead of three. We'll save that for our VIP."

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Right on.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Working on my post now. So, trying to keep the timeline straight in my head, where your last post ended Ruby was before the boarding party left or afterwards?

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

I'll consider my twenty-five bucks as payment for services rendered. No need to get all chummy.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Malachi will be needing some attention from Cole as well, as will the other security officers wounded on the Jem'Hadar ship, so get a move on, you no good, life-having bastard. @Byrd Man

@Morden Man