"Well" Jackson said to Skallagrim "Once an American, always an American."

Jackson felt the ground shift beneath his feet. The sensation was awfully familiar: he had experienced the same thing when he said the name 'Skallagrim'. That was back when he was in his home. That was when he was still in America, where the scent of freedom was able to fill his nose and through his circulatory system, freedom flowed through his veins. The hall, however, was not free- not as much as the great land of America. Getting used to the lack of freedom in the air, Jackson needed to adjust himself. However, he was not given the opportunity.

Soon enough, Andrew Jackson was shanghai'd off to another place. The president stood at what appeared to be the far end of a long street. The president looked around to see the stoplights at each corner of the road. He was at the far north end of the town. The side of the street that was larger featured several work buildings: super markets, bakeries, gas stations, restaurants, and the like. The smaller street features houses. The town itself was built in a valley, so most of the land was flat, and there were several stretches of land before reaching the mountains. It was night time, and everyone was asleep.

Though the area did not seem familiar, but Andrew knew where he was. Jackson took a short whiff of the air. It was the smell of freedom. He was home again. He was in America. But alas, he was not able to celebrate. He knew that in his position, he'd have to fight someone of equal strength to himself, and by doing so he put lives of free Americans in danger. He was lucky that he arrived at such a time, or he would have to quickly evacuate everyone.

Andrew Jackson gripped onto his M16, examining it. "Technology sure has changed since I last seen it" he remarked, scanning the gun and its workings.

"Alright!" Andrew shouted "Whoever I'm fighting, you can come out now."

Before he could finish his sentence within the Nexus itself, the first round had already started. Abe was whisked away to some small abandoned town within the heartlands of the U.S.A. ". . .ment?" Well there we go, we're in the soup now aren't we?

Abe's body had began to regress to its usual state; dried skin, dead eyes, and that delicious brain rot. Abe's sanity would be out the window within a few moments, Abe chose to give a fair warning to his as of yet unseen opponent. He stood up and pointed his head up at the sky, parting his cracked lips to shout out a vague threat. "Hey! Whatever jerk I'm about to kill! I hope you're comfortable with your flesh being stripped from your bone! When I lose my mind again, I'm not going to care about your ethics on cannibalism! I can and will eat you!" That was that, and there really was no more to say. The rapidly resurfacing holes in his brain felt sort of like pop-rocks inside his skull cavity, tearing and fizzling ever so slightly. "Ooohhh yeeeeshh, thassh the shtuff!" The lisp was back.

"One two! Abe'sh comin' for you!" The matte-black spheres rolled in his head for a moment as his animal brain took in his surroundings, an unnatural structure made out of some kind of rock. Haddad himself was up on top the roof of one of the tallest buildings there, just about the center of town. There's a dusty road and a few buildings where the humans lived, though they don't anymore. Abe couldn't make out many scents that weren't at least a year old. Except a faint scent of something human-like was nearby. It smelled like the sweat of a human, the faint pheromones of one too, but it was like it ran on something totally different. Something unnatural, like magic maybe? "Hey you! I only whiffed yer schent before! What're you? Are you taschty? C'mere to Abe and let me take a bite of you!"

That festering pool in his gut roiled for a while, Abe's face was plastered with a horrible shit-eating grin, it'd take his foe a while to actually find him. Despite them being within relatively close proximity to eachother, as Abe was on a rooftop and therefore out of direct line of sight. That's good for now, but if his opponent is that massive spider freak he'll be in for a bit of a nasty surprise. Since, guess what, spiders can climb walls. This would be the perfect terrain for Abe to get stomped on by a giant bug. Kyehehehe, he cackled silently to himself, a few moments and he'll lay eyes on his prey and when he does! Sizzle hiss goes the melting face, and with a scream the man's life goes away.

But Abe's getting ahead of himself, he doesn't even know who he's fighting yet.

Jackson twitched, turning his attention to a yet to be identified noise from a yet to be identified presence. No, he's definitely heard the noise before. It was not American, not in the slightest, and that made the source of the noise Andrew Jackson's enemy. "As an American, I cannot deny you your right to eat whatever you please. However, I do ask that you contain yourself. Otherwise, I will not hesitate to shoot, exercising my second amendment rights."

The president pressed the stock of the gun against his chest. He shifted it around before finding a comfortable position for it to be in. His finger was on the trigger, his other hand keeping the fun still. Jackson looked down the sight of the gun, focusing his attention to what was in it, before blinking and examining his surroundings there. Still getting used to his weapon, Andrew Jackson fired a few warning shots into the air.

Andrew Jackson pressed his finger against the trigger, and by reflex immediately shot. He fired about three bullets into the air- it was the first time the president had fired a semi-automatic rifle. "This is impressive." remarked the president "America never ceases to impress me."

That filthy ratta-tat-tat of guns, Abe knew the noise all too well, the modern day humans use those horribly impersonal weapons when fighting now-a-days. Cowardice in a metal barrel, there's no reward for being good with them, you never feel the rush of outsmarting your opponent like you do with melee. Anyway, those gunshots made Abe crouch low and hug the rooftop, the loud noise let Abe know the general direction of his next meal.

You never make loud noises while you're being hunted, that just lets the predator know where you are. Abe pressed his gut against the roof and splayed his body out like a gecko, crawling along without rising an inch. Maintaining his sneaking posture he peered the top of his head over the edge of the roof, scouting out for his target who was only just within sight. The tall walls obscured him from view slightly, but the top of his head peeked above the walls. Abe smiled and pressed his hand to his gullet, feeling the warmth grow and his stomach with it. Only a few more moments before it was ready to be loosed.

Knowing that he needed to stall, the ghul backed away from the ledge crawled to near the center of the roof. With one hand he tore a handful of roofing tile and chucked it over the edge, far enough away and hard enough to create a loud clatter once it hit the ground. Which, to Abe's delight, was louder than expected! Perhaps it was made of ceramic? Bah, doesn't matter. What's done is done, now to wait for the sound of footsteps running towards his distraction. Unless, this foe is capable of realizing a distraction when he hears one. If not, Abe will just have to hide until he's fully loaded and ready to go.

Andrew Jackson listened as the bullets flew through the air, the sound of the gun echoing through the town. There was no apparent response; which meant that the town was completely uninhabited. "God damn do I love that noise. Almost as much as I love the sound of being an American." Jackson admitted, still staring at the weapon. The president seemed thrilled. During his life, hunting and dueling were some of his favorite pass times, second of course to baseball... and being an American.

The president walked upright, with his chest puffed out, and his gun held firmly in both arms. "Aight you son of a bitch. You can come out now. Old Hickory's on the hunt and your ass is in season!" He shouted, attempting to project through the town. Looking for his opponent, Andrew Jackson was on high alert. Then suddenly, a noise. The president could feel his ears twitch as the sound of crumbling was made in the distance. It was not as loud as the sound of guns- the sound of freedom, but it was enough to draw Andrew Jackson's attention. "There ya are" Jackson muttered.

He ran toward the source of the noise, looking around. It was just a bit of roofing. Andrew Jackson never hunted anything capable of using such a distraction, which could only mean two things: his enemy was smarter than the average bear, and his enemy was smarter than the average redcoat. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" the president called. "Must be hiding." the president thought "What a little coward. Maybe he ain't smarter than those dirty brits."

Jackson made his way to a building. He knew that if he could destroy it, he might be able to draw out his opponent, who'd have no more place to hide. Of course, that'd mean he'd be putting in danger the life of innocent Americans- except the town was empty save for the two of them. Andrew Jackson smiled the confident smile of his country. He had only made the same face other three times: when he drove the British out of America, when he removed the federal bank, and when he kicked those dirty Indians out west.

"For America!" Jackson cried. He dropped his gun, letting it fall and hang from the strap on his neck. The president drew a sword from his belt- the Liberty Brand. Using its incredibly sharp blade, tempered by the power of America, Andrew Jackson sliced through the concrete. An old man normally wouldn't be able to decimate a building in such a way, however, enhanced by the power of freedom and liberty, Andrew Jackson was capable of anything. The concrete wall of the house broke leaving a hole in the building. Jackson made his way to the center, smashing everything he could, making sure that the building fell.

The building was shaking.

. . .

The building is shaking?

. . .

The building is shaking!

A small area of the roof caved in as a support beam was cleaved in two, Abe hadn't much time to react so he reeled backwards and shoved himself away from the roof with his feet. The force was enough to get him away from the building but Abe smashed backwards against a wall, his frail form flipped over the wall and he faceplanted into the dust. For a moment he just lay there, facedown in the dirt, contemplating what kind of madman he was fighting. I mean, Abe's crazy and all, but who cuts down a building? Who does that!?

This was no good, this man had a blade that could cleave through these old buildings like butter, apparently, so Abe would have to find a way to strip him of this weapon. A deep belch passed his lips, blowing dust out from under his head. "Oh yesh. It'sh ready!" The pool was filled to bursting and Abe's smile grew, he shoved himself back up to his feet with his hands and dipped low to the ground. He made a jump upwards and grabbed the wall he had smashed into previously, vaulting himself over. The clatter and banging of the building collapsing continued, which meant that his foe would make his way through the other side in a moment. "Oh hey foolish one! I'm over here! Come and get me, meat!"

That aught to work, taunting usually brought people's frustrations out, and when frustrated most people don't think as well as they normally do. So that'll give Abe a wee bit of an advantage. Oh what am I saying, Abe doesn't think well either, this could all be a horrible plan that's certain to backfire. Any minute Jackson could come through that wall and not stop swinging. And that would be horrible! Abe couldn't deal with being cut in two this early into the fight, he's only just finished prepping his first attack. So now he waits, keeping his tongue pulled back and ready to trigger a vomit reaction.

The president had been curled up into a ball- a ball made of pure condensed freedom. Out of the rubble, Andrew Jackson rose like the American flag on the 4th of July, standing proudly. He whipped his sword in the air, clearing it of dust, before sheathing it. There was a bit of dust that had gotten inside of Andrew Jackson's gun, however, knowing American technology, that couldn't be enough to jam it... right? Wiping the dust off himself, Jackson looked around before finally seeing his opponent. He was one ugly guy, or at least so thought Jackson. In addition, the zombie-thing was speaking in some strange foreign language.

"Hey!" Andrew Jackson called "The way I understand it, there are two languages: American, and not-American! I sure ain't no not-American, but I'm sure as hell you ain't speakin' no stars n' stripes!" Whatever Abe was saying, however, Jackson took it as a threat. "But you listen to me boy. You insult me, you insult the good ol' land of America!" He pointed his gun, and prepared to fire.

Andrew Jackson looked his opponent straight in the eye. His feet and shoulders were lined up, facing straight at his target. His left foot was moved slightly back. The stock of the president's gun was held high on his chest, his elbows down. The gun was not just a weapon anymore- it was an extension of his own body. His right hand was held in a vice over the gun's grip, his finger ready on the trigger. Andrew Jackson took aim, and with the most confidence, he pulled the trigger.

Clicking. That was all to hear. The gun clicked as Jackson pulled the trigger another two times- the barrel jammed. "I see lady luck did not shine on me today" Jackson remarked. "Well that's alright. I've got good ol' lady liberty!" An egg formed in the air, quickly cracking. Soon enough, it transformed into a fully grown eagle. "SKAW!" the eagle screeched.

"Freedom go!" Andrew Jackson commanded, pointing at Abe. The eagle shot forward, straight towards Abe.

"Did you jush-" Before completing his sentence Abe needed to deal with that stupid bird, his left arm snapped through the air like a popped rubber band, smashing the bird into the dirt with the back of his hand. "Did you jusht schoot a bird at me?!" Abe seethed with frustration, this guy was going to be eaten soon, and he saw fit to dick around and shoot eagles at him. Oh that was infuriating, Abe's teeth ground together and made a noise reminiscent of scraping a fork across a ceramic plate.

"Sho you shee fit to schrew with me, do you? I'm jusht gonna make thish hurt a lot more than it schould, understand me? I shupposhe I schould tell you my name, right? That'sh part of thish whole deal, right? It'sh Abraham Haddad, call me Abe." The ghul took a few steps towards the building, staring up at the foe mounted atop the structure with a faulty gun. "And you are?" Abe really didn't care, in the slightest, but the longer that he waits to fire his spray the better. And this man was clearly armed to the teeth with abilities and weapons alike, like some sort of Swiss Army Knife of combat.

While his toxic spray had been ready for some time, this was more of a precaution than anything, and if Jackson tried anything funny he'd be ready to flood the airspace with his caustic juices.

"Aight commie" Andrew Jackson said, hauling his gun over his shoulder, ripping it from the strap and holding it in his right hand by the barrel "You listen and you listen good." The president assumed a heroic stance, his chest puffed out. His muscled seemed to be tensed as if to show more definition- as if he were showing off. "The name's Andrew Jackson! Bane of the Brits, annihilator of the Indians, beater of banks, and leader of this fine ol' country of U, S, and A! Folks here call me Old Hickory. See, here in America, we got a game called football; and you see, I gots the home field advantage."

Andrew Jackson hurried to a street corner, and with his left hand, drew his sword. In the same motion, Jackson cut a small wedge into a telephone pole, then another on the other side. "We got another game here too. It's called baseball- country's favorite pass time" Jackson said, sheathing his sword. "Can't say I'm too good, but I can step up to the plate."

The president grasped the barrel of his gun with both hands and assumed the position of a baseball batter. Waving his gun around like a bat, Jackson gave a hard swing at the telephone pole, knocking it towards Abe.

"Commie? What'sh a commie? Why are you cho- Okay, yeah. You're not even gonna banter, are you? Nope. Gonna drop a posht on me." Abe watched as the length of timber began to fall towards him, it was quick. Ol' Andy here was incredibly strong for one so plain looking. Abe should learn to never underestimate people based on their appearance, The log would crush him if he didn't do something, oh, right. The ghul took a few steps over to the side, thwarting the somewhat half-hearted attempt on his life. "You're gonna have to try harder than that, Jackie!"

All was ready, Jackson had attempted twice to strike Abe with little success. Now it was the ghul's turn to attack Jackson. Abe's feet dug into the dirt and kicked away, breaking into a mad sprint towards Jackson. Placing one foot on the fallen pole he leaped into the air and locked his eyes onto the target before him. Jackson, the All-American-Arrogant, was about to see something horrifying.

In the air Abe's lips parted and his teeth quickly followed suit, both pairs seemed to move out of sync by a fraction of a second. At the back of his throat emerged a foul brown sludge. His gaping maw curled a bit, as though he were smiling, and from his lips spewed his toxic spray. It fanned out like a water hose on the cone setting and with enough pressure to make a fire-hose jealous. This had been building up since the beginning of the fight, roughly equivalent to five of his normal sprays. And it was going to end very poorly for the human.

No response. The president didn't acknowledge the strange man. This was because Abe wasn't worth acknowledging- Andrew Jackson only pays full attention to TRUE AMERICANS. Anyone else isn't worth his time. Then suddenly, Jackson picked up movement in his eyes- Abe jumped and higher than the president would have expected. The president quickly picked up his end of the telephone pole, lifting it and hopefully using it to bash Abe. In addition, he dropped his gun so that he would be able to use both hands. His plan changed soon enough, however as the sudden burst of acid sprayed from Abe's mouth.

Andrew Jackson put the pole between him and the sludge, hoping it would be enough to protect him. He held it with his body turned sideways so that he could better protect himself. Droplets of the sludge occasionally made their way onto his clothing, melting small holes into it. The pole did in fact protect him, Jackson having hope in American telephone poles. The president looked down, seeing the acid melt the ground beneath him, but seeing that the wood of the telephone pole melted much slower- Organic material didn't burn as quickly to the sludge.

"Freedom go!" he commanded. Another egg formed in front of him, flying upwards out the direction of the spray, behind a building. It made little noise as it flew quickly towards Leeroy, hopefully to catch him by surprise.

Abe's jaw ratcheted closed after unleashing his spray, the ground had been covered by his taint, but Jackson was unharmed. The twit was crafty or just plain lucky, wood could protect him for a short while from the ghul's poison. Unfortunate that he'd figured that one out, but Abe was still closing the gap between them. Jackson had made no effort to move away from his approaching foe, Abe viewed this as one of two things. Either Jackson was foolhardy enough to think he could best him in CQC, or Jackson was plotting something underhanded. If Abe got in close and beat Jackson to a bloody pulp, however, it would leave little room for any underhanded tactics. His feet planted to the soaked ground with a quiet slosh, sending a bit of it splashing up.

The filth dripped from his face and the ghul rose to face the former president. A sick grin growing across his face as the last couple drops of his previous spray cling to his teeth. His lips parted and he spoke unto him. "Now the battlefield ish mine, Jackshon. I've shprayed my poison everywhere, melting the dirt into a shoggy filth. I've done thish for two thoushand yearsh. I can travel over my toxinsh fashter than I can on shand and dirt. You claim to have home-field advantage? I own the field." Abe's fragile form spread out into a prepping stance, ready to begin his terrible assault. With the battlefield now turned into a horrible mush of putrid smell and color, caustic and slippery to the touch. Abe now had the home field advantage over Jackson.

From behind, however, a large predatory bird landed on his back claws first. Gripping into the thin and paper-like skin, tearing a hole clean towards his bones. Abe's face turned into a bitter grimace, another bird. This human was trying to play with him, as though he thought the birds were enough of a problem to defeat him. To him, Jackson seemed like a pompous arrogant. Like a British king in that regard, the ones he so loathed were very similar to him. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed at the bird, trying to snatch at it's neck. "You and your ugly ratsh with wingsh, I'm getting tired of thesh gamesh!"

Jackson tossed the telephone aside, allowing it to roll and the wires to snap.It was a fate the telephone did not deserve- being discarded in non-American sludge. Being made in America, the pole at least deserved a proper burial. Andrew Jackson only gave it a salute before reaching down to pick up his gun. He saw that Abe was running fast towards him, already doing away with the eagle and fairly easily as well. Quickly, Jackson throttled about with the barrel, attempting to unjam it. Then he noticed a feather of the eagle he had recently created on the ground, the tip just barely untouched by the sludge.

The president smirked, plucking the feather and dipping it into the gun's barrel and waving it about like a brush as he closed distance with the ghul. "As long as this soil remains American" Jackson stated, pointing the gun at Abe, sticking it directly at his chest. "As long as this soil remains American, it will remain FREE! And I intend to keep this ground as FREE and AMERICAN as it can for a really long time. You hear?"

Then, Andrew smelt the foul sludge closer than it was- likely because the ghul was right in his face. Also because some of the sludge got on him. The liquid goop burned through Andrew's shoes and clothing, some of it getting on his skin. He felt a burning sensation, and quickly tried to shake it off- but not before re-adjusting the sight of his gun to aim properly at Abe. Jackson shrugged off the pain and began fire his M16.

Suddenly, he heard something drip. It was light, but the sound was loud enough for Andrew to hear- the sludge had dissolved through the barrel of his gun. "Fucking shit! You dirty commie! Ruining my perfectly AMERICAN gun!" Jackson shouted. Not taking the hint, he shot the gun- only for it to backfire. A bullet shot forth, but there was another small explosion which caused Andrew to jump back.

Just as Abe had cast the ugly bird aside and into the sludge, Jackson had positioned himself in front of him. Typical. The barrel of one of those deadly magic weapons was placed against his throat, but Abe's face was covered in a smile as his toxins ate away at the gun. For a moment he thought he was in the clear, but then the gun fired. Yes, it exploded shortly afterwards, but the gun itself did in fact fire. That was not good, that was not good at all.

Abe's throat tore open and a single bullet lodged itself in the c6 vertebrae in his spine, the c6 vertebrae controls heart rate. The ghul's long dead organ gave a mighty spasm, and a wrenching pain bore into his chest. The ghul was facing Jackson when he reflexively threw up more poison, sending it flying from his mouth and the hole recently torn in his throat. In a frenzy he reached over his shoulder and ripped the pole from the loop on his back. The ghul screamed and threw his head around as the chest pains continued to surge inside of him.

There was no stopping it now, a fully enraged and confused ghul was now standing where Abe once was. There was little humanity left in him as he spoke to the president. Clouds of foul brown mist escaped him as he screamed, through his mouth and the hole. "You! Bad man! Evil monster! Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" Abe accusingly pointed his finger at Jackson before making a full spin on the slippery ground. His body spun three-hundred and sixty degrees on his heels. In his hand was extended the blunt end of his spear, intending to slam the blunt part of his weapon into Jackson's gut on the full turn.

Following up on the spin from before Abe's body twisted and contorted, his lithe form spun around and jabbed the but of the spear into Andrew Jackson's diaphragm with extreme prejudice. The wooden handle hitting with so much force that the wood groaned from the strain it was under, but it was a sturdy shaft that did not yield to Abe's force. This blow was to an important organ in the human body, the diaphragm controls breathing. Hitting him there was sure to cause difficulties catching his breath. But Abe wouldn't stop there, no, Abe was going to make Jackson suffer for daring to injure him.

The seizing in his chest made this next part incredibly painful, his lungs swelled with the brown corruption. His lips parted and he sprayed through his teeth the poison, spraying it out in a fine brown mist. A more fluid ooze dripped from the new hole in his throat as well, dripping down his neck and onto the ground. "I warned you! I'm going to eat you! And you're gonna tashte delischoush!" Also note, he has not moved the butt of his spear away from Jackson's chest, so at any moment he could strike Jackson again.

Jackson quickly moved his gun up, putting it between himself and the acid. It melted in half, Jackson dropping the parts of the broken gun onto the ground.

"Shit" he thought. The pain didn't scare him though. He was vulnerable, and that made him dangerous. He did not feel pain. Jackson was capable of feeling one emotion, and that one emotion is FREE. "LET FREEDOM REIGN!" Jackson managed to cough out as he unsheathed his Liberty Brand. In a quick motion, the president lunged foreward with the tip of his sword sticking straight out. He attempted to step Abe with the sword, but that was not all.

"Y-you made my clothes red." Jackson remarked, struggling for breath "No one makes me a red. Better dead than red." Out of the tip of the Liberty Bane shot forth a screaming light- a firework which flew straight forward and hopefully at Abe. but aimed at the ground, where some pieces of wood from the pole and the pieces of the gun were.

Jackson pushed forward.

The spear slid backwards as he thrust his sword forward.

Abe uncharacteristically flinched, the blade reminding him of bright flames for a moment.

With sword flying, Abe had little time to react. To prevent himself from being gutted on the spot he did the only thing he could think of doing. Abe thrust his hand out and let the blade penetrate it, a violent screech as though the metal were scraping against stone rang out. The ghul's touch couldn't stop the blade from piercing, but it slowed it down considerably. The hilt reached the palm of his hand and Abe grabbed hold of it with his injured hand. His grip did not falter, despite the pain growing from his hand and legs.

Legs?

Abe glanced down and saw his legs were aflame, a large chunk was missing from his right thigh. "You! I knew you were of witch-kin!" The flames started to wrap around his shins and started to grow upwards to his thighs. This was going to be dangerous, so Abe knew what he had to do. With the two of them in this position, one burning and the other breathing down poison. One's blade grappled by the pierced hand, and each with one arm free. Abe was at an advantage here. The partisan in his right hand twisting to face Jackson. In one quick thrust he aimed it at the bottom of Jackson's head, the seven inch blade would be fatal left unchecked. He thrust with all of his force, keeping his left hand clamped down tight on the handle of Liberty Brand. The flames licked at his stomach even now, and would soon grow up to his chest. Abe bellowed out a guttural scream, hoping that this stab would finish it.

Jackson stumbled about, his sturdy legs the only thing keeping him standing. Struggling to breath, it felt strange for him to have air enter and escape from so many places at once- he felt as if his stomach were being filled with blood, before he coughed letting out a bit of red blood mixed with saliva. "Damn commie" Jackson said "I think I'm turning into one of your folk now." He forced a smile as the smell of burning flesh and smoke soon overwhelmed the smell of Abe's gases and juices. "Do you suck dicks?" Jackson asked. "Are you a peter puffer? I bet you'd fuck a guy in the ass and not even have the common courtesy to give him a reach around!" His voice initially sounded as if he were struggling. It then grew into a growl which soon made a crescendo into a mighty roar. Jackson used the flame of the Liberty Brand to cauterize his wound, closing the hole on his stomach. The growl was actually a cry in pain of his skin burning.

The president smiled with great confidence as his sword made contact with Abe's body, slashing through it. He attempted to pull back, only to feel his own sword being clenched on. He was soon to notice the spear coming towards him- with the Liberty Brand out of commission, Jackson could only dodge. Or could he? Jackson, rather than pulling himself away, pulled his sword closer to him, thus pulling Abe closer.. "MY COUNTRY TIS OF THEE, SWEET LAND OF LIBERTY, TO THEE I SING!" Jackson recited with a determined look in his eyes.

Between Andrew Jackson's jaw and Abe's spear was a bird, the tip of the spear just barely blocked by the eagle's light bones. "I'm sorry little buddy. Your death will not be in vain" the president promised "for it was a necessary sacrifice for the pressing forward of this great country! FOR AMERICA!" Jackson shouted, attempting to project louder than Abe's screams. Jackson gripped down on his sword, He didn't even care what it hit any more. He shot another firework through the tip of the sword.