Post by Deleted on May 4, 2022 19:17:41 GMT
"Congressman Jefferson sir."
Franklin Jefferson sat in his luxurious, spacious office behind a rich, magnificent mahogany desk. On the wall behind him was his framed Penn State Law degree. Upon the desk's surface was a display box holding his Silver Star Medal along with stacks of paperwork, each sheet of which could decide the fate of hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of souls within the free world. The proper analysis, interpretation and action of such documents could only be trusted to one so educated and experienced as he. So it was that he did not brook unexpected interruptions kindly.
The man who had entered the office and spoken his name knew this. He was a diminutive man, less than six feet tall with no muscle mass beyond the minimum necessary to propel a human skeleton. Next to the incredible specimen of human athleticism that was Franklin Jefferson, even seated as he was, the man looked like a child, playing dress-up in his father's suit. The man's hands were shaking with nerves and as he had spoken his voice had cracked. It was an effect Frank had found that he had on many a lesser man.
"What is it?" Frank asked, looking up just enough that he could glare at the man from beneath his strong, pronounced brow.
"T-there's a very important c-call for you on line o-one."
"I said I'm not taking calls this afternoon. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Y-yes sir, but-but it's the Vice-President sir."
Frank chuckled lightly, "probably going to beg me to marry his daughter again. Fine, I'll take it. You're dismissed."
"Thank you sir," said the messenger, clearly relieved to be allowed out of the presence of such intimidating masculine energy.
Frank answered the phone. "Mr. Vice-President sir. This is Congressman Jefferson."
A diagonal slash bisects our view of Frank from top right to bottom left. Frank inhabits the left side of the shot, on the right appears an elderly balding white man.
"Congressman Jefferson, thank God I've reached you. We have a critical situation and you're the only man that can handle it. It's a matter of the highest national security."
"You know I'll do anything for my country Mr. Vice-President. What's the situation?"
"The President was recently on vacation, extreme scuba diving in the Caribbean in the presidential submarine, Ocean Force One."
"Like he does every year, I'm aware."
"Of course Congressman Jefferson. A man of your standing and security clearance would be privy to the President's movements. However, this year Ocean Force One had been seized by terrorists."
"Terrorists?"
"Yes, terrorists, and we need you to save him."
"Understood Mr. Vice-President. Have any other attempts yet been made to regain control?"
"One of the vessels cooks, claiming to be a former Navy Seal attempted to. However, it turned out he was actually just a deluded old man and he got shot in the face in ten seconds. We need the real deal now Congressman."
"Send me rendezvous coordinates."
"A helicopter is already on its way to collect you. It'll be there shortly."
"I'll be ready when it arrives Mr. Vice-President and don't fear. I won't let you down."
"You never do Franklin Jefferson."
Above the wide open sea a military transport helicopter hovers low over the water. The downwash of its blades created ever expanding circles of unnatural waves. A hatch on the vehicle's side swung open. A second later, devoid of hesitation, a man stepped out. He was dressed in full scuba diving gear and he dropped twenty feet into the freezing water with no sign of fear or a second thought. With its invaluable cargo deployed the chopper pulled away, leaving the man alone in the water with no sign of land in any direction. Then the man dived.
He descended, swiftly and surely, moving in the water with the proficiency of an olympic swimmer. As he dived further and further into the depths the sea grew dark. The pressure of the water pressed down on him so hard it would have been too much for a lesser man to endure. For this man though, he let it fuel him. He imagined the physical pressure as a mirror of the situational pressure he was under to be successful. He was his country's one, only and best hope. Failure would be a catastrophe and was not an option.
In the deep, cold and dark he spotted his target, his superior eyesight picking out its silhouette even in the near pitch darkness. The submarine was going to pass right under him so the diver swiftly calculated the perfect intercept course and speed in his head and set to it. Exactly as planned he came down on the port side of the vessel's prow. He grabbed a handle on the submarine's hull and held on. The submarine was moving fast and the resistance of the water as the vessel passed through it threatened to fling him off and away into the void. If that happened, even he wouldn't be able to catch up again and the mission would be a failure before it had even truly begun. He clung on then, his hands clamping down on the bar like a crocodile's jaws clamp down on their prey. Then he reached for the next hand hold and used his incredible strength to pull himself along, as if climbing horizontally up the vessel’s hull. Hand over hand he dragged himself until he was near the very front of the submarine and his hand grabbed at the edge of one of its large torpedo tubes. Large as it was, it did not have a diameter great enough to allow his muscular form and the bulk of his diving equipment to pass through. It was the only way inside though. He hyperventilated, flooding his lungs with oxygen before taking one last final breath and holding it. He undid the straps that were holding the oxygen tank to his back and shrugged it off. There was no time to watch it fall into the ocean’s depths, never to see the light of day again. He kicked and pushed himself into the tube. It was tight and claustrophobic. His wide shoulders pressed against the sides of the tube and threatened to wedge him in. For a moment he cursed his exceptional physique but then pressed on, squeezing and dragging himself down the tube. Even being able to hold his breath for far longer than an average man his lungs were starting to burn but it only lent further urgency to his motion. Even in the pitch blackness he knew when he was far enough in and shoved open a loading hatch. There was a rush of light and air and he sucked it in as his eyes instantaneously adjusted to the new light level. He pulled himself out of the tube so that he rolled onto the ground and immediately back to his feet. He drew the pistol from the waterproof holster that had been across his chest and surveyed the room. It was empty and so he took the time to trip off the rest of his diving gear. As he removed his mask and hood it was revealed that the man was Franklin Jefferson.
Frank stripped off the wetsuit, keeping one eye always on the door. When he was done he stood in completely dry black combat fatigue trousers and a figure hugging black t-shirt. Now the mission began for real.
Ready to proceed, Frank moved to the nearest door. He opened it but on the other side was a guard. They had been asleep at their post, their breathing so low that even Frank’s exceptional hearing couldn't detect it through the metal bulkheads. He was a small man with narrow shoulders and close cut blonde hair. He started into awakedness as Frank opened the door but he was too slow to do anything about it. Frank chopped down on the guard’s neck and sent him back into a deeper sleep than before.
Frank had dealt with these kind of terrorist takeover’s before. The first thing they always did was take over the computer systems. That meant there was always a tech whiz in the group. This was going to be his first target. Frank moved with assured certainty. He had fully memorised the submarine’s blueprints in the short helicopter ride from the base. He headed for the control room.
He encountered patrolling guards on the way. Each time he did he would stealthily approach them and take them out before they even knew they were in danger. They were all simple generic humans, almost entirely beneath the notice of a man like Frank. They were nothing more than an unfortunate distraction from what he was here to do but an unavoidable one in the circumstances.
He was soon at the entrance to the control room. A single guard was stationed outside it. He was larger and less generic than all those he had defeated on his way here. This one was tall and broad with a head of thick ginger hair and a matching beard. From the way he stood Frank could tell he had a smug concietedness to him despite most likely having nothing to be smug about in the first place. Frank thought he looked like an idiot and wasn’t going to cause any more than a passing delay. Frank snuck up on him with his exceptional stealth skills. Even so, he was surprised that he managed to get up within arm’s reach of the man without him seeming to notice. From up close though the reasoning was clear. He was drunk, most likely on a combination of wine and the smell of his own flatulence. Frank gave him a firm nudge and the man crumbled into a pathetic looking heap on the ground. Frank opened the door and stepped over the guard to get inside.
The control room was filled with two things, screens and blinking coloured buttons. Frank didn’t know what they all did. That was nerd stuff. He knew though that he had to make sure the terrorist’s weren’t in control of them anymore. They had left their tech guy there. He was a diminutive little man in a black hoodie with its titular feature pulled up over his head. The tech fell out of his chair at the imposing sight of Frank Jefferson entering the room and immediately started begging for mercy.
“Please, whoever you are, don’t hurt me.”
“I’m Franklin Jefferson, here on behalf of the great United States of America. I’m putting a stop to whatever you’re doing here. You hacked the computers to stop the loyal patriots that crewed this vessel from being able to control it, didn't you.”
“Y-y-yes.”
“Unhack them then.”
“Whatever you say Mr. Jefferson sir, just please don’t hurt me.” The feeble tech guy picked up his chair but almost knocked it over again in his hurry to be seated. He started rapidly hammering buttons on a keyboard. After a minute the display’s on the screens changed. “There, I unhacked the system. The crew will be able to take control again now.”
“Good.”
“Now you won’t hurt me right?”
“I never agreed to that,” said Frank. He raised his hand. The tech made a girlish scream before Frank’s blow fell and knocked him unconscious. He wouldn’t be coming around for a long time.
Frank turned and headed on. The next stop was the bridge.
More weak generic guards tried to stop Frank as he proceeded swiftly and purposefully through the submarine. He squashed them all like lemons. Soon he was coming up on the bridge. The bridge had a single entrance and exit at the end of a narrow corridor. If there was a guard it was impossible to get in or out without being seen. Today, there were two guards. The one on Frank’s right was a tall, broadly built bald man with a face like a poorly carved ham joint. On his left was a short haired blonde lady who looked as harmless as a soccer mom on a school run. With no other way past Frank walked straight up to them.
“Oi, who’s dis cunt then?” asked the woman of her brutish partner.
“Der, I dunno who dis cunt is,” the brute replied stupidly.
“Oi cunt, oo ah ya,” asked the woman. Her voice was grating.
“Is that the only word you two know?” asked Frank eloquently.
“What word?” asked the brute with a simpleton drawl.
“I fink ‘e means cunt. You mean cunt do ya?”
“Yes, quite,” said Frank.
“We is ‘bri’ish and being bri’ish is our whole personality so yes, it is,” said the woman.
“That’s incredibly boring,” said Frank, rolling his eyes but suave and panache. Before the dull British guards could respond though Frank was moving. In a flurry of offence faster than the eye could track he had incapacitated them both, leaving them in heaps on the floor. He stepped past them and into the bridge.
There were two men on the bridge. One was like most of those Frank had come across, he was small and seemingly malnourished. He only stood out by the black mask he wore that surrounded his eyes. Frank assumed it was meant to make him look cool but the mask was cheap and only served to make him look like the Hamburgler.
“Congressman Jefferson!” a voice came from the second man, “I knew they’d send you.”
“I’ll have you safe and out of here in a moment Mr. President,” said Frank, looking over to wear the President of the United States was duct taped to a chair.
“Don’t be so sure of that,” said the final masked terrorist.
“Your plan is over. Franklin Jefferson is here now. You’ve failed,” said the President.
“Don’t be so sure,” said the masked man, “in fact, we’re right where I want us to be.”
The submarine lurched and there was a feeling of pressure as if the gravity had been turned up.
“We’re surfacing,” said Frank.
“And when we do, my plan will almost be complete.”
“Well you’re not going to get a chance to see it,” said Frank. He grabbed at the man but the masked terrorist had a coward’s instincts and evaded him then ran away.
“Don’t worry Mr. President. I’ll catch him.”
“I know you will Franklin Jefferson. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever met,” said the President.
Frank saluted then set off after the masked terrorist. Despite Frank being much bigger he was just as fast as the terrorist but the terrorist had a head start and kept just ahead of him until he reached a hatch at the top of the vessel and climbed out of it. Frank climbed the ladder after him and a second later he too exited the now surfaced submarine and stood on top of it.
“Do you know where we are Mr. Jefferson?”
“We’re in the Everglades. Some people may call this a swamp, but in actuality it’s one of America’s most magnificent National Parks and an essential natural habitat and ecosystem.”
“You’re very intelligent Mr. Jefferson,” conceded the terrorist, “those reasons are why I am going to destroy it.”
“I get it. You want to destroy this place using the president’s own vessel. When people find out what happens you’ll try to make the President and myself look like the bad guys and try to make yourself look like some kind of hero, won’t you,” said Frank, figuring out the plan in seconds.
“Yes, exactly. I’ll trick people into thinking I’m the hero while selfishly working towards absolute power and if I ruin everything around me in doing so, so be it.”
“Well then I’m just going to have to be the one to stop you,” said Frank, “for America.”
Frank bounded towards the terrorist. The terrorist tried to slip away again but Frank couldn’t be tricked twice. He caught him with his powerful hands, lifted him up over his head then threw the terrorist into the swamp.
The terrorist began to splash and struggle, drowning. “Help me. I can’t swim,” he begged.
“You should have thought of that before you attacked the United States of America,” said Frank. He was stern and cool and watched as the terrorist drowned in the swamp.
“Congressman Jefferson! You did it!” It was the President. He had freed himself and came up to join Frank on the top of the submarine.
“I did Mr. President. As always, you can count on me.”
“I know I can Frank, that’s why you’re my champion and you always will be. While you’re here, absolute power will always be in safe hands.”
“That’s right Mr. President. While I’m here no-one will ever threaten to claim absolute power ever again.”
Franklin Jefferson sat in his luxurious, spacious office behind a rich, magnificent mahogany desk. On the wall behind him was his framed Penn State Law degree. Upon the desk's surface was a display box holding his Silver Star Medal along with stacks of paperwork, each sheet of which could decide the fate of hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of souls within the free world. The proper analysis, interpretation and action of such documents could only be trusted to one so educated and experienced as he. So it was that he did not brook unexpected interruptions kindly.
The man who had entered the office and spoken his name knew this. He was a diminutive man, less than six feet tall with no muscle mass beyond the minimum necessary to propel a human skeleton. Next to the incredible specimen of human athleticism that was Franklin Jefferson, even seated as he was, the man looked like a child, playing dress-up in his father's suit. The man's hands were shaking with nerves and as he had spoken his voice had cracked. It was an effect Frank had found that he had on many a lesser man.
"What is it?" Frank asked, looking up just enough that he could glare at the man from beneath his strong, pronounced brow.
"T-there's a very important c-call for you on line o-one."
"I said I'm not taking calls this afternoon. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Y-yes sir, but-but it's the Vice-President sir."
Frank chuckled lightly, "probably going to beg me to marry his daughter again. Fine, I'll take it. You're dismissed."
"Thank you sir," said the messenger, clearly relieved to be allowed out of the presence of such intimidating masculine energy.
Frank answered the phone. "Mr. Vice-President sir. This is Congressman Jefferson."
A diagonal slash bisects our view of Frank from top right to bottom left. Frank inhabits the left side of the shot, on the right appears an elderly balding white man.
"Congressman Jefferson, thank God I've reached you. We have a critical situation and you're the only man that can handle it. It's a matter of the highest national security."
"You know I'll do anything for my country Mr. Vice-President. What's the situation?"
"The President was recently on vacation, extreme scuba diving in the Caribbean in the presidential submarine, Ocean Force One."
"Like he does every year, I'm aware."
"Of course Congressman Jefferson. A man of your standing and security clearance would be privy to the President's movements. However, this year Ocean Force One had been seized by terrorists."
"Terrorists?"
"Yes, terrorists, and we need you to save him."
"Understood Mr. Vice-President. Have any other attempts yet been made to regain control?"
"One of the vessels cooks, claiming to be a former Navy Seal attempted to. However, it turned out he was actually just a deluded old man and he got shot in the face in ten seconds. We need the real deal now Congressman."
"Send me rendezvous coordinates."
"A helicopter is already on its way to collect you. It'll be there shortly."
"I'll be ready when it arrives Mr. Vice-President and don't fear. I won't let you down."
"You never do Franklin Jefferson."
Franklin Jefferson
Stars In
A Franklin Jefferson Productions production
Under Siege on Ocean Force One
Stars In
A Franklin Jefferson Productions production
Under Siege on Ocean Force One
Above the wide open sea a military transport helicopter hovers low over the water. The downwash of its blades created ever expanding circles of unnatural waves. A hatch on the vehicle's side swung open. A second later, devoid of hesitation, a man stepped out. He was dressed in full scuba diving gear and he dropped twenty feet into the freezing water with no sign of fear or a second thought. With its invaluable cargo deployed the chopper pulled away, leaving the man alone in the water with no sign of land in any direction. Then the man dived.
He descended, swiftly and surely, moving in the water with the proficiency of an olympic swimmer. As he dived further and further into the depths the sea grew dark. The pressure of the water pressed down on him so hard it would have been too much for a lesser man to endure. For this man though, he let it fuel him. He imagined the physical pressure as a mirror of the situational pressure he was under to be successful. He was his country's one, only and best hope. Failure would be a catastrophe and was not an option.
In the deep, cold and dark he spotted his target, his superior eyesight picking out its silhouette even in the near pitch darkness. The submarine was going to pass right under him so the diver swiftly calculated the perfect intercept course and speed in his head and set to it. Exactly as planned he came down on the port side of the vessel's prow. He grabbed a handle on the submarine's hull and held on. The submarine was moving fast and the resistance of the water as the vessel passed through it threatened to fling him off and away into the void. If that happened, even he wouldn't be able to catch up again and the mission would be a failure before it had even truly begun. He clung on then, his hands clamping down on the bar like a crocodile's jaws clamp down on their prey. Then he reached for the next hand hold and used his incredible strength to pull himself along, as if climbing horizontally up the vessel’s hull. Hand over hand he dragged himself until he was near the very front of the submarine and his hand grabbed at the edge of one of its large torpedo tubes. Large as it was, it did not have a diameter great enough to allow his muscular form and the bulk of his diving equipment to pass through. It was the only way inside though. He hyperventilated, flooding his lungs with oxygen before taking one last final breath and holding it. He undid the straps that were holding the oxygen tank to his back and shrugged it off. There was no time to watch it fall into the ocean’s depths, never to see the light of day again. He kicked and pushed himself into the tube. It was tight and claustrophobic. His wide shoulders pressed against the sides of the tube and threatened to wedge him in. For a moment he cursed his exceptional physique but then pressed on, squeezing and dragging himself down the tube. Even being able to hold his breath for far longer than an average man his lungs were starting to burn but it only lent further urgency to his motion. Even in the pitch blackness he knew when he was far enough in and shoved open a loading hatch. There was a rush of light and air and he sucked it in as his eyes instantaneously adjusted to the new light level. He pulled himself out of the tube so that he rolled onto the ground and immediately back to his feet. He drew the pistol from the waterproof holster that had been across his chest and surveyed the room. It was empty and so he took the time to trip off the rest of his diving gear. As he removed his mask and hood it was revealed that the man was Franklin Jefferson.
Frank stripped off the wetsuit, keeping one eye always on the door. When he was done he stood in completely dry black combat fatigue trousers and a figure hugging black t-shirt. Now the mission began for real.
Ready to proceed, Frank moved to the nearest door. He opened it but on the other side was a guard. They had been asleep at their post, their breathing so low that even Frank’s exceptional hearing couldn't detect it through the metal bulkheads. He was a small man with narrow shoulders and close cut blonde hair. He started into awakedness as Frank opened the door but he was too slow to do anything about it. Frank chopped down on the guard’s neck and sent him back into a deeper sleep than before.
Frank had dealt with these kind of terrorist takeover’s before. The first thing they always did was take over the computer systems. That meant there was always a tech whiz in the group. This was going to be his first target. Frank moved with assured certainty. He had fully memorised the submarine’s blueprints in the short helicopter ride from the base. He headed for the control room.
He encountered patrolling guards on the way. Each time he did he would stealthily approach them and take them out before they even knew they were in danger. They were all simple generic humans, almost entirely beneath the notice of a man like Frank. They were nothing more than an unfortunate distraction from what he was here to do but an unavoidable one in the circumstances.
He was soon at the entrance to the control room. A single guard was stationed outside it. He was larger and less generic than all those he had defeated on his way here. This one was tall and broad with a head of thick ginger hair and a matching beard. From the way he stood Frank could tell he had a smug concietedness to him despite most likely having nothing to be smug about in the first place. Frank thought he looked like an idiot and wasn’t going to cause any more than a passing delay. Frank snuck up on him with his exceptional stealth skills. Even so, he was surprised that he managed to get up within arm’s reach of the man without him seeming to notice. From up close though the reasoning was clear. He was drunk, most likely on a combination of wine and the smell of his own flatulence. Frank gave him a firm nudge and the man crumbled into a pathetic looking heap on the ground. Frank opened the door and stepped over the guard to get inside.
The control room was filled with two things, screens and blinking coloured buttons. Frank didn’t know what they all did. That was nerd stuff. He knew though that he had to make sure the terrorist’s weren’t in control of them anymore. They had left their tech guy there. He was a diminutive little man in a black hoodie with its titular feature pulled up over his head. The tech fell out of his chair at the imposing sight of Frank Jefferson entering the room and immediately started begging for mercy.
“Please, whoever you are, don’t hurt me.”
“I’m Franklin Jefferson, here on behalf of the great United States of America. I’m putting a stop to whatever you’re doing here. You hacked the computers to stop the loyal patriots that crewed this vessel from being able to control it, didn't you.”
“Y-y-yes.”
“Unhack them then.”
“Whatever you say Mr. Jefferson sir, just please don’t hurt me.” The feeble tech guy picked up his chair but almost knocked it over again in his hurry to be seated. He started rapidly hammering buttons on a keyboard. After a minute the display’s on the screens changed. “There, I unhacked the system. The crew will be able to take control again now.”
“Good.”
“Now you won’t hurt me right?”
“I never agreed to that,” said Frank. He raised his hand. The tech made a girlish scream before Frank’s blow fell and knocked him unconscious. He wouldn’t be coming around for a long time.
Frank turned and headed on. The next stop was the bridge.
More weak generic guards tried to stop Frank as he proceeded swiftly and purposefully through the submarine. He squashed them all like lemons. Soon he was coming up on the bridge. The bridge had a single entrance and exit at the end of a narrow corridor. If there was a guard it was impossible to get in or out without being seen. Today, there were two guards. The one on Frank’s right was a tall, broadly built bald man with a face like a poorly carved ham joint. On his left was a short haired blonde lady who looked as harmless as a soccer mom on a school run. With no other way past Frank walked straight up to them.
“Oi, who’s dis cunt then?” asked the woman of her brutish partner.
“Der, I dunno who dis cunt is,” the brute replied stupidly.
“Oi cunt, oo ah ya,” asked the woman. Her voice was grating.
“Is that the only word you two know?” asked Frank eloquently.
“What word?” asked the brute with a simpleton drawl.
“I fink ‘e means cunt. You mean cunt do ya?”
“Yes, quite,” said Frank.
“We is ‘bri’ish and being bri’ish is our whole personality so yes, it is,” said the woman.
“That’s incredibly boring,” said Frank, rolling his eyes but suave and panache. Before the dull British guards could respond though Frank was moving. In a flurry of offence faster than the eye could track he had incapacitated them both, leaving them in heaps on the floor. He stepped past them and into the bridge.
There were two men on the bridge. One was like most of those Frank had come across, he was small and seemingly malnourished. He only stood out by the black mask he wore that surrounded his eyes. Frank assumed it was meant to make him look cool but the mask was cheap and only served to make him look like the Hamburgler.
“Congressman Jefferson!” a voice came from the second man, “I knew they’d send you.”
“I’ll have you safe and out of here in a moment Mr. President,” said Frank, looking over to wear the President of the United States was duct taped to a chair.
“Don’t be so sure of that,” said the final masked terrorist.
“Your plan is over. Franklin Jefferson is here now. You’ve failed,” said the President.
“Don’t be so sure,” said the masked man, “in fact, we’re right where I want us to be.”
The submarine lurched and there was a feeling of pressure as if the gravity had been turned up.
“We’re surfacing,” said Frank.
“And when we do, my plan will almost be complete.”
“Well you’re not going to get a chance to see it,” said Frank. He grabbed at the man but the masked terrorist had a coward’s instincts and evaded him then ran away.
“Don’t worry Mr. President. I’ll catch him.”
“I know you will Franklin Jefferson. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever met,” said the President.
Frank saluted then set off after the masked terrorist. Despite Frank being much bigger he was just as fast as the terrorist but the terrorist had a head start and kept just ahead of him until he reached a hatch at the top of the vessel and climbed out of it. Frank climbed the ladder after him and a second later he too exited the now surfaced submarine and stood on top of it.
“Do you know where we are Mr. Jefferson?”
“We’re in the Everglades. Some people may call this a swamp, but in actuality it’s one of America’s most magnificent National Parks and an essential natural habitat and ecosystem.”
“You’re very intelligent Mr. Jefferson,” conceded the terrorist, “those reasons are why I am going to destroy it.”
“I get it. You want to destroy this place using the president’s own vessel. When people find out what happens you’ll try to make the President and myself look like the bad guys and try to make yourself look like some kind of hero, won’t you,” said Frank, figuring out the plan in seconds.
“Yes, exactly. I’ll trick people into thinking I’m the hero while selfishly working towards absolute power and if I ruin everything around me in doing so, so be it.”
“Well then I’m just going to have to be the one to stop you,” said Frank, “for America.”
Frank bounded towards the terrorist. The terrorist tried to slip away again but Frank couldn’t be tricked twice. He caught him with his powerful hands, lifted him up over his head then threw the terrorist into the swamp.
The terrorist began to splash and struggle, drowning. “Help me. I can’t swim,” he begged.
“You should have thought of that before you attacked the United States of America,” said Frank. He was stern and cool and watched as the terrorist drowned in the swamp.
“Congressman Jefferson! You did it!” It was the President. He had freed himself and came up to join Frank on the top of the submarine.
“I did Mr. President. As always, you can count on me.”
“I know I can Frank, that’s why you’re my champion and you always will be. While you’re here, absolute power will always be in safe hands.”
“That’s right Mr. President. While I’m here no-one will ever threaten to claim absolute power ever again.”
Credits
Starring
Franklin Jefferson as Himself
Emilio Hernan (Lookalike) as The President
The Avenger as Masked Terrorist/Himself
Other People as Unimportant Characters
—
Written by Franklin Jefferson
Directed by Franklin Jefferson
Produced by Franklin Jefferson
Original Score by Franklin Jefferson
Cinematography by Franklin Jefferson
Editing by Franklin Jefferson
Costume Design by Franklin Jefferson
Hair and Makeup by Looking This Good as Soon as You Wake Up.
Cameraman: Shaun
Starring
Franklin Jefferson as Himself
Emilio Hernan (Lookalike) as The President
The Avenger as Masked Terrorist/Himself
Other People as Unimportant Characters
—
Written by Franklin Jefferson
Directed by Franklin Jefferson
Produced by Franklin Jefferson
Original Score by Franklin Jefferson
Cinematography by Franklin Jefferson
Editing by Franklin Jefferson
Costume Design by Franklin Jefferson
Hair and Makeup by Looking This Good as Soon as You Wake Up.
Cameraman: Shaun