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When esteemed mathematician and philosopher Kurt Gödel, a refugee from Nazi oppression, was being interviewed for US citizenship, the story goes, he was asked if he thought it was possible for a regime like the Nazi's to take over the United States. Gödel had apparently pored over the Constitution in anticipation of the interview and claimed to have discovered just such a loophole - to the examiner's horror.It's never been revealed what Gödel's loophole was - it's wide open to speculation - and many of the details of the story have been lost to anecdotes and retellings of variable quality. While I won't suggest that this answer is one such possibility, it does strike me as having frightening potential for leading to the kind of fascist regime Gödel escaped.While the patchwork of state and local laws governing political activities and policing would make it difficult for a party-sponsored paramilitary organization to become a national force, the heart of the answer is that there isn’t anything explicit in law to stop something like the SS from emerging in the US.The issue really hinges on the legal status of political parties in the US. They’re not expressly sanctioned by the Constitution, and other than with respect to campaign conduct and finance laws, they aren’t defined in US federal law at all. This is because elections are run at the state level, per the Constitution, and not the national level.The Republican and Democratic National Committees, for example, are private organizations that provide national coordination services to their state chapters for the purposes of selecting and supporting candidates for public office.The definitions and conduct requirements of a political party vary from state to state. In my home state of Virginia, for example a "recognized political party" is:an organization that, for at least six months preceding the filing of its nominee for the office, has had in continual existence a state central committee composed of registered voters residing in each congressional district of the Commonwealth, a party plan and bylaws, and a duly elected state chairman and secretary. [Although to receive automatic ballot access thereafter, they must then receive at least 10 percent of the vote in a statewide election]Whereas Colorado (chosen randomly) goes so far as to define “major” and “minor” political parties:"Major political party" means any political party that at the last preceding gubernatorial election was represented on the official ballot either by political party candidates or by individual nominees and whose candidate at the last preceding gubernatorial election received at least ten percent of the total gubernatorial votes cast."Minor political party" means a political party other than a major political party that satisfies one of [several] conditions set forth [in law] or has submitted a sufficient petition [signed by at least ten thousand registered electors].Now, not being an expert in election laws in all 50 States, I stand to be corrected in saying that there are not explicit prohibitions on political parties having militia or paramilitary wings – or, at the very least, political parties in the states are not defined to exclude the possibility.Going back to Virginia, an upstart political party may have on its legally required central committee a “Director for Party Security.” In the party’s bylaws that role might be defined as something innocuous like, say, “he shall provide for the physical security of party members at official party events or while conducting political duties on behalf of the party.” That could very well get a pass.If challenged, the DPS/central committee might say, “We train our volunteers to keep the peace at our events and to liaise with law enforcement if necessary.” That would probably strike most people as a really, really weird thing for a political party to care about, but there’s nothing wrong with that on its face.So let’s say this fictional party, despite its weird emphasis on the security of the party faithful, does well enough to succeed at the ballot in a couple of states. It forms a national committee (or maybe it formed the national committee first and devolved to the states, whichever), and it begins to accrue a nice little war chest from donations. It’s getting more difficult for the various state DPS’ to keep up with "maintaining security" at the growing events, though – and the quality of volunteers is too variable.One enterprising DPS starts a security consultancy where party volunteers may be sent for rigorous training – or the firm might be contracted to provide security from using its own staff (who happen to have been plucked from the party faithful). He “resigns” from official party duties to avoid the appearance of impropriety, naturally, in accepting security contracts from the party; but he does set up a Political Action Committee to make sure money goes back into the party war chest when possible.On the side, this security firm also puts in tenders for government security contracts – some of which are overseas – and because they offer cheaper rates than other firms (being partially subsidized by a new and emerging political party helps keeps costs down), they’re usually selected.Up to this point, no laws (that I'm aware of) have been broken. The party is merely trying to provide for security at its events, its volunteers are being properly trained and have not taken law enforcement into their own hands, and there is nothing preventing a party from contracting a properly licensed firm for security at its events when relying on volunteers alone is insufficient. Moreover, depending on the state in which the security firm is organized, it's probably not against the law for the senior executives to screen current and prospective employees for their political affiliation, since that is not a class explicitly protected from discrimination.I will take this moment to note that in 2014, the Republican National Committee paid (non-paramilitary) firm Securitas Security Services USA a total of $462,835 to provide security at its events. Obviously I’m not suggesting that the Republicans are starting a covert paramilitary force, just illustrating the point of legality. I’d happily be bipartisan and call out the DNC for doing likewise, but so far I can’t find any security services expenditures in their financial reporting.The next issue in turning this security force into a pseudo police force would next require the amending of state laws to allow for agents of private security firms to operate as law enforcement officers. All states have statutes governing the certification of private security officers, and these place limitations on how far they can go in preventing criminal activity. Either these restrictions would have to be relaxed, or the state would have to make it legal to privatize its law enforcement responsibilities. Many states already permit this, and the trend has been growing for a while (noting that article was written in 2007).But it’s not enough to say that a politically affiliated security firm that acquires limited police powers is on the same page as the SS. To get to that level of notoriety, there are many more hurdles that need to be considered. Certainly at the state and federal levels there are restrictions concerning voter intimidation or suppression, assaulting journalists, or attempting to “unduly influence” elected officials (much less through violence), which the SS did extensively in order to aid the Nazi Party’s rise to power.The thing about laws, though, is that they’re only as good as the people who choose to enforce them – and that’s where things could get scary, as follows (because of course I was going to accompany this answer with a micro-fiction).Gold Eagle SecurityYou’re a good citizen. You diligently pay your taxes with a sigh, and you vote in most elections – the ones that matter, anyway. You keep your politics to yourself, though, because you don’t think it’s really anybody else’s business.Recently, you heard about a new party that’s organized in your state. Supporting third parties isn’t really your thing, as your preferred party has aligned well with your beliefs, but you look them up out of due diligence.On the surface, you don’t see anything too terribly offensive in their party platform – it’s all boilerplate stuff about making the country great, supporting the individual, and keeping the government out of your business – but nothing to compel you, either. So you ignore them and figure they won’t get far.On Election Day, when you arrive at the polls, you’re a bit surprised to see that this new party has a booth set up next to the Democrats and Republicans (and that lonely Green volunteer who’s been turning up alone since time immemorial). While the other volunteers are casually dressed (the Green maybe a bit too casually), the new guy is wearing a crisp suit over a white collared shirt with an Old Glory tie. You approach him just out of curiosity.Up close, you note his lapel pin. It’s a gold bald eagle on a white background surrounded by an oak wreath. It’s bordered by a blue field with silver five-point stars.You make small talk. He moved here after his time in the Army was done. You reflexively thank him for his service, and point out the lapel pin. Something from the Army? It’s a token the party gives to combat veterans.You think that’s a little weird, but it’s not like the other parties haven’t glorified the military in some manner or another. What are you doing now that you’re out? He’s a police officer – off-duty today to work the polls – and part-time consultant for a security firm.That’s the extent of your conversation before he makes the partisan pitch you’ve been expecting. You politely nod along as he talks. He offers you a sample ballot, and you decline. You were just curious. His demeanour seems to change immediately. He’s a bit gruff when he tells you to “have a nice day” when you walk away from the booth.You give a handshake to the party volunteers you’re used to (even the lady from the “other side” who’s actually very sweet) and you go do your civic duty.When you leave the polling station, you feel like you’re being watched, but you chalk it up to a cold November morning.You check the election returns that night before going to bed, and it looks like this new party has picked up a few seats in your state legislature – mostly from the crazy part of the state (of course). It’s big news, though, because their victories have cost both parties a majority in the lower house, so they’ve become something of a power broker. They weren’t as successful in other states, though, so this might just be a flash in the pan.Your candidate made it in, though, and that’s all that really matters. He can deal with the politics in the capital. Congress hasn’t changed anyway, so what’s really going to change?A few months down the track, and you’re at the mall. The new party has a recruiting booth set up. They’ve drawn a (very) small crowd, and a couple of people are signing up. Off to the side of the young, enthusiastic volunteers, though, you notice someone in a black t-shirt and jeans and you think… A holster? What kind of idiot brings a gun to the mall?As you’re lost in thought contemplating the armed man, you bump into someone. Not just anyone. It’s the officer from the polling station – now very much on duty. You apologize, and he begrudgingly accepts.You ask if he’s here about the armed man, and he curtly reminds you that this is an open carry state, and he’s not breaking any laws. Yeah, but isn’t it weird? He has his rights.You feel a bit uneasy, so you apologize to the officer again and go about your business. As you exit the mall, you see the officer chatting it up to the armed “overseer,” as you dubbed him in your mind. When you walk by the booth, you pick up a couple of pamphlets – earning a smile from the young volunteer.One of the pamphlets touts the party’s commitment to community, including an upcoming youth retreat where children can learn outdoors and “survival” skills, to include marksmanship courses. Another one lists off volunteer opportunities, to include “security.” They all have the boilerplate party information you remember from before, and they’ve obviously co-opted the eagle as their party symbol (which annoys you a bit).As November approaches, you’re reminded that there are local seats up for election, but they’re all non-partisan. Besides, does the county sheriff seat really matter? They’re going to enforce the laws no matter who’s in office. Solidifying your decision to stay home, it rains on Election Day. You’re not even bothered to check the results the next day.Another year goes by, and the upcoming election really matters. Not only is it a presidential year, but the governor’s seat is also up. The new party (well, they’re not so new anymore) is running a candidate who’s been doing marginally well in the polls. He won’t win, but he’s forced the campaign narrative to go in ways that really unsettle you.Your friend’s car is broken, and he asks if you can ride him to the polls on the way home from work. You agree, even though you really prefer to vote in the morning, and at the end of the day the two of you head over together.The moment you pull into the parking lot, you feel like something’s not right.You don’t see that Green volunteer anywhere, but he might have just rolled out. No, that's not it.Your friend points it out. They're here. A lot of them. They're in a group, happily chatting and having a laugh. You immediately spot the officer, who seems to be leading the pack. Surely he's off duty, so why's he in uniform? The rest of his group are in matching long-sleeve shirts and dark slacks – a casual uniform of sorts.They're hanging out by the entrance, so there's no way to avoid them. As you pass, you note one of the long-sleeved young men has the same lapel pin as the officer. You also notice that the police officer isn’t wearing the local sheriff’s patch on his uniform. He’s with a private security outfit. What is he doing guarding a polling station?Just as you think you're going to walk past without recognition, your friend mutters something aloud about "fucking jackbooted assholes," and their laughter stops. You swear you can hear the air crack as they turn their heads towards you and your friend.You stammer out something about that not being cool and quicken your step. When you approach the usual bunch of partisan volunteers, you can tell that they look a bit stressed and wary - even that sweet lady. Your friend makes a show of taking one of their sample ballots, and you two go in to vote.When you leave, you try to walk on the other side of the parking lot, but your friend stridently passes the group of partymen with his sample ballot in hand.Unlike a few years back, you know you're being watched. You leave quickly with your friend, who won't stop ranting about those assholes until you drop him off at his place.When you get home, you immediately switch on the news. The party's candidate hasn't made it to the Governor's House, but he did better than expected. Other candidates were more successful, though. One state's legislature is now dominated by the party.You sleep uneasily.In the morning, the tires of your car are slashed, and its windshield has been broken out. Your insurance company requires a police report. That's fine, because you know exactly whom you want to report for the crime.The officer from the polling station responds to your call. Send someone from the actual police department! This is a non-violent crime, which we’re contracted for. I want someone else. Nobody’s available right now. I want a supervisor.Why are you being hostile? His interview of you proceeds along that theme. What's wrong with you? What have you done that would upset someone? If you were asleep, how could you be so sure who did it? You'll get a copy of the report in the mail.After he leaves, it occurs to you to call your friend and check on him.He doesn't answer.You call the sheriff's office to lodge a complaint, but you’re referred to his firm’s customer service line. No, that’s not good enough. They invite you to come in and lodge a complaint in person. You're angry enough to go and give them a piece of your mind. They get you in with a deputy sheriff.That cop is a jerk! He doesn’t work for us, and besides, you’d be his first complaint. He's got a perfect service record. Yeah, well, don’t send them to my house again. Have to, unless it’s a violent crime. Why do you let your officers engage in politics? Their own time is their own business. What are you going to do about the people who trashed my car? You don't have any evidence of who did it.While the deputy is taking down your complaint, you take a brief scan of his desk. He has a golden eagle lapel pin. Your blood boils.Why do you have a political pin in your office? It was a gift, not political. So you're not in the party? What party do you belong to? None of your business! Likewise.You leave, and on your way to work (now very late), your friend calls you back. He's in the hospital. Someone jumped him when he was leaving his house. He was on the ground and out cold before he could get a look at who was responsible. But he's sure of who it was that got in a few blows – or one of them, anyway.You both are. This has to stop.You check when your county board is meeting, and you intend to raise the issue of the privatization of the police force. As you build your case by cruising around online, you find allegations that the security firm running “non-violent” crimes in your county has deep connections to the emerging political party. They’ve even been contracted by the Federal government to conduct security operations overseas. There are rumors that they’re looking to expand into private prison services.You’ve seen enough.When you’re given your five minutes to make your presentation to the county board, you try to keep yourself from coming off as a conspiracy theorist as you lay out your concerns. Still, you can tell that the panel is not entirely persuaded. At the end of your speech, the Chairman insincerely thanks you, reminds you that this was put up to a vote in the last election, and it passed, and this has freed up the county sheriff to pursue more serious crimes.I want to put it back on the ballot. The law doesn’t authorize this to be put up by popular referendum. Then make a motion! We’ll consider it.You leave the hall dejected. The county board doesn’t act.The Midterms are coming up. You're out mowing your yard when you spot a college-aged kid going door-to-door, dropping off pamphlets. It strikes you as a bit unusual, because normally your district isn't competitive enough to warrant volunteers showing up.As he approaches your house, a pair of volunteers from the ascending party also walk up the street. One of them is a particularly burly looking fellow. When they spot the other volunteer, they stop going house to house and approach him. You get a bad feeling and go inside to get your phone to call the police.By the time you're back outside, the two thugs are wailing on the volunteer. You charge into the fray, shouting at them to back off. You've got the police on the line, and you've taken their picture, so they'd best stick around.They're smirking as you read them your version of the Riot Act, and help the battered volunteer in your house. It turns out he's not from your party, but it doesn't matter.The contracted officer you've encountered now too many times shows up.I thought you only did non-violent crimes. Our services were expanded. Did you see who started the fight? No, but of course it was them. They say the volunteer pushed them first. Bullshit. But you didn't see it.He arrests the volunteer. You threaten to call the news and highlight this perversion of the law. "Do what you have to do."The paper already has a reporter assigned to cover the spate of election-related violence. She comes over and interviews you. You don’t care if you sound like a nut job as you run through your personal history of unease about the state of politics since the party showed up. She seems entirely sympathetic.You're called to court as a witness a few days down the track. The reporter is there, too. The thugs argue self-defense - they just wanted to talk, and he lashed out. The volunteer says they had been harassing him all day. You can't say who threw the first punch, but you know the thugs showed up looking for a fight. The contracted officer says he's responded to your house before, where you had a paranoid go at party members and probably weren't an unbiased observer.The judge tosses the case.The reporter's story runs a few days later, alleging "volunteers" of the party have been implicated in numerous acts of violence in the run-up to the election. To your disappointment, though, there’s no mention in the article of their connection to the party-sponsored security firm. The state and national party organizations denounce politically motivated violence, though insist on their volunteers' innocence. The other parties are working together to discredit them, they counter, because they're afraid of how quickly they've come to power.Because of the danger to their volunteers, they say, they're going to increase security at their events. If elected, they also promise to clamp down on "un-American" politically motivated violence through strict laws at the state and federal level.Like hell you're going to let them be elected!The day of the Midterms, you leave your house and find a group of men at your car.They ask if you need a lift to the polls. Fuck off! You see that your tires are slashed. I'm calling the cops!You don't see the fist that knocks you out.You miss the election while in the hospital. Turnout for your (and the other) party is at an "historic low." Your incumbent Congressman has narrowly lost; and while the Senator won, it was by the lowest margin in his career. The ascending party has secured power in numerous states.When you get home, you try to call the reporter who covered your day in court. She died in a hit-and-run accident months ago. The car that struck her was stolen, and the driver fled the scene. Despite pleas from her family, the police closed the investigation with no suspects.This can't be happening. Not in America! There are laws against this bullshit!Still, you know you're on the party's shit list, and you'll be damned if you let this happen to you again. Words from years earlier pop into your head, "This is an open carry state."You buy a gun.Local elections are coming up again. The sheriff's seat is up. You're damned sure you're going to vote him out of office. You'll vote for whomever promises to fire whatever’s left of the goddamned police force! That’s how you feel, anyway, until you see who’s opposing him for the office.It’s your favourite officer.Oh, fuck no!Well, surely you can at least clean up the County Board! That will be one way to sort out this mess. When you look up the "non-partisan" candidates, though, almost all of them are tied to the party in some manner.Still, there are some who have no apparent affiliation with the party – even if that means they’re affiliated with the other party. You don’t care. Anybody else is good. You even recognize the old lady from your polling station among the candidates. Surely she’ll get your vote!On Election Day, you hurry past the large group of partymen – to your relief, you don’t see that “officer” around – ignoring the sample ballots they thrust at you on the way and get feel relieved once you get into the booth. Once you’ve voted for the local candidates, or at least the ones you can stomach, you flip over to some of the state-wide ballot propositions.One of them is to amend the state’s constitution to define a “hate crime” to include crimes based on political affiliation.You vote in favour of that one without hesitation.When the results come in that night, your heart sinks. There’s a new sheriff in town, and you’re pretty sure he hates you. The new County Board doesn’t look much better. The lady from across the aisle seems to be the only person affiliated with the established parties to make it in. The security party expanded its hold in the state legislature.The party is running a candidate for President, and your stomach churns in thinking what his victory might mean for the country. You decide that you can’t keep your politics to yourself anymore, and so for the first time in your life you volunteer for a political campaign.They’re elated to have you on the team! Finding volunteers this year has been difficult to say the least. They recommend you also become a precinct captain for the party to help corral other volunteers. You try, but you find out for yourself just how hard it is to get people to sign up to help with the campaign – even using the party’s list of stalwart supporters.As you’re out canvassing one day, you notice a car has been following you from block to block. You immediately recall the incident from two years ago, and start on your way home. The car follows you. Even though your house is just two miles away, you take an hour to get there as you take the most convoluted route you can imagine to get there – the car following you the whole way.You want to call the police, but you know how useless that will be.You finally get home. The tailing car parks in front of your house. You run inside and grab your gun, and emerge with it in hand just as three people step out of the car. You raise the pistol as you warn them off, peppering your threat with all manner of slurs. It works – the men back down, get back in their car, and drive off.An hour later, there’s a knock on your door. The sheriff is here to arrest you personally.It’s an open carry state!That doesn’t give you the right to wave your gun around like a lunatic. They were following me! That’s not what they say – and in any case, you didn’t call us. I want a lawyer! You have your rights.Your lawyer does the best job he can, really, but your documented history of hostility towards party volunteers makes it seem pretty obvious that you have a bias against them. The three of them testify that they were doing nothing more than what you allege to have been doing – supporting your candidate for office, as the Constitution allows you to do freely and without harassment.Thanks to the Constitutional amendment that you supported last election, you are convicted of a politically motivated hate crime, which has been aggravated by your use of a firearm. Neither you nor your lawyer are aware that the judge presiding over your case is receiving kickbacks from both the party and the state to ensure that the newly opened private prison meets the occupancy quota guaranteed by its contract, and that contributed more to your harsh sentencing than anything else.You watch from your prison cell, guarded by men with gold eagle lapel pins, as the party locks up majorities Congress, and its presidential candidate achieves one of the greatest electoral landslides in modern US history.And you were once such a good citizen.Thanks to Jon for the A2A (and my apologies for spending too much time on this and let the request expire).

This is gonna be amazing !Air Force One is instantly recognizable - both as the airplane of the President of the United States and as a flying symbol of American military and economy might. With its hand-polished blue, white, and silver livery, it boldly proclaims the arrival of the powerful man in the world.What many people don't know is that there isn't one, but two nearly identical Boeing jets that serve as the official transport of the President. Normally, the planes are referred to by their tail numbers - 28000 and 29000 - but when the Commander and Chief steps on board, they take on the call sign "Air Force One". In fact, Presidential airplanes didn't begin using the Air Force One designation until 1959.The President's pair of Boeing VC-25A jets are operated by the Presidential Airlift Group out of Joint Base Andrews in Maryland. While the current Boeing 747-based planes have been in service for more than two decades, they're simply the latest in a long-line of flying White Houses.Today, presidential air travel is a massive, highly coordinated operation. However, this wasn't always the case.Facts are fetched from history…which is quite interesting here ! It’s too lengthy…Scroll at your own curiosity & interest. In my view it’s worth giving a scroll ;)Here we go:It all started with Theodore Roosevelt — a true American pioneer. Which is why US 26th President is also the first to fly in an air plane. More than a year after leaving office, he flew in a Wright Flyer on October 10, 1910.SmithsonianIt wasn't until 1933 did the US Government actually acquire an aircraft specifically for Presidential travel. That year, a Douglas Dolphin amphibious plane — similar to the one pictured below— was specially outfitted for President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Unfortunately, FDR never flew in the Dolphin.Popular MechanicsInstead, the first official Presidential flight took place on January 14, 1943 when FDR crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a Boeing 314 Clipper— similar to the one pictured below — on a trip to Casablanca, Morocco.History ChannelThe first aircraft to be custom built for presidential use is a Douglas VC-54C nicknamed "Sacred Cow." The Sacred Cow famously transported Roosevelt to the Yalta Conference.US Air Force MuseumOn July 4, 1947, Truman replaced the Sacred Cow with a new aircraft — a Douglas VC-118. The new plane was christened "Independence" after the 33rd President's hometown in Missouri. On August 31st of that year, It made its first official presidential trip to a conference in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.The VC-118 is a civilian Douglas DC-6 — the 26th to roll off the production line — that was modified on orders from the Air Force for Presidential duty. The Independence has room for 24 seated passengers or 12 sleeper berths.It also features dedicated meeting space for the President and...... A full kitchen. The aircraft served in the presidential fleet until 1953.That year, a Lockheed Constellation — christened "Columbine II" after the state flower of Colorado — took over the presidential flying duties. In 1953, an air traffic controller confused the airplane carrying President Eisenhower with an Eastern Airlines flight using a similar call sign. The incident helped bring about the use of the designation "Air Force One."Fox NewsIn November of 1954, the US Air Force took delivery of a new personal aircraft for President Eisenhower — a heavily modified Lockheed L-1049 Super Constellation called the VC-121E. In fact, it was the only VC-121E ever built. Christened the "Columbine III", the Lockheed plane served the President until 1961.US Air Force MuseumThe VC-121E would be the last non-jet-powered plane to serve as the official presidential aircraft.That's because on October 10, 1962, the US Air Force and President John F. Kennedy took delivery a new Boeing 707-320B-based VC-137C known as Special Air Mission or SAM 26000.US Air Force MuseumEven though President Eisenhower had been known to use Air Force Boeing VC-137A jets during his time in office, SAM 26000 was first purpose-built presidential jet transport.Decked out in blue, white, and silver with the words "United States of America" emblazoned on its side, SAM 26000's livery became the most iconic in aviation history. The airplane's look is the brainchild of legendary industrial designer Raymond Loewy. Former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy is also said to have contributed to the stunning design.New York TimesUnfortunately, President Kennedy didn't get to use SAM 26000 for very long. The 35th President of the United States was assassinated in Dallas on November 22, 1963. Vice-President Lyndon B. Johnson was sworn-in as our nation's 36th Commander and Chief on board SAM 26000.The aircraft was also tasked with transporting the President Kennedy's body back to Washington. Here, the President's coffin is unloaded at Andrews Air Force based under the guidance of the First Lady.Post Kennedy, SAM 26000 went on to serve as the primary presidential aircraft for the Johnson and...... The majority of the Nixon administration.In fact, 26000 took President Nixon on his historic trip to China in 1972.During its 36-year career, SAM 26000 flew eight sitting presidents including Ford, Nixon, and Carter— pictured here.In 1972, President Nixon took delivery of a second VC-137C call sign SAM 27000. The new plane took over as the President's primary aircraft with SAM 26000 serving as the backup.Unfortunately for President Nixon, the jet was also tasked with taking him home to California after his resignation in 1974. As President Ford was sworn in, the pilot of the aircraft famous called into the air traffic control to announce that the flight's call sign has changed from Air Force One to SAM 27000. As a result, SAM 27000 made 1,440 takeoffs as Air Force One, but only made 1439 landings with the presidential callsign.AOPAThe President that clocked the most miles on board SAM 27000 was Ronald Reagan.The White HouseWhich why the plane can now be found at the Reagan Presidential Library.By the mid-1980s, the Air Force's fleet of VC-137Cs were beginning to show their age.Which is why President Reagan and the US Air Force ordered a pair of new presidential jets based on the most recognizable airplane the United States has ever produced — the Boeing 747.After several delays, the duo of Boeing 747-200 derived VC-25A jets entered service in 1990 during the administration of President George H.W. Bush.The two planes — SAM 28000 and SAM 29000 — remain in service today. The flying Oval Offices feature 4,000 square feet of interior space incorporating presidential living quarters, work areas, meeting rooms, and 2 galleys capable of serving 100 people at a time.In addition, the planes feature midair refueling capabilities, advanced satellite communications, self-sufficiency capabilities at foreign airports, electronics countermeasures, and missile defense systems.Thus far, the VC-25As have served Presidents George H.W. Bush,...... Bill Clinton,...... George W. Bush, and ...... Barack Obama.President-elect Donald Trump will be the next President of the United States to travel on board the VC-25A.However, with more than a quarter century under its belts, the VC-25A's time as the primary presidential transport is drawing to an end.In 2015, the US Air Force announced that it will order a pair of new Boeing 747-8 Intercontinental-based presidential aircraft set to enter service in 2024.Sigh! The End.Disclaimer: All possible sources are listed above and below is the root source.Root source: Business InsiderThank You for wasting your precious time !

“Friday - status!” commanded Tony Stark, urgently.Iron Man’s opponent, an alien technology that could transform and disguise itself as an advanced, American F-22 fighter jet, was laughing maniacally.Curiously it sounded like another villain - Ultron.Only this robot was more physically vicious and aggressive.Tony’s mind raced as he continued to plummet, his Mark 50 suit desperately trying to reboot itself.Starscream commandeered a Cybertornian stealth shuttle with enough resources and energy for an extended trip to Earth. His plan, as always, domination of the Decepticon clan by usurping its leader, Megatron.The Decepticon second in command had made contact with an unknown entity after being compelled to fly and explore a strange, incongruous, planetoid in an unexplored sector of the galaxy.A brief surge of data had imprinted itself on his pico neural pathways and easily convinced him that Megatron could be quickly disposed if the right assets were in play.Not one to argue with grand opportunity the Transformer readily agreed and had already turned to scheming for his ultimate advantage.The shuttle had been programmed to enter a dimensional flux stream and, after some trepidation, he found himself in geosynchronous orbit around Earth once more.However, the scanners on his spacecraft revealed some irregularities.There were greater concentrations of energy, higher levels of advanced technology, and even more surprising, strange, altered life forms inhabiting the planet.He ignored these facts in favour of one - there were no traces of Autobots, or Decepticons.Ever.By his estimation, the planet was ripe for his picking.With his shuttle holding place in orbit the Decepticon broke through the atmosphere and transformed into his jet mode.Activating advanced stealth features he took his time, smugly surveying various sites of interest, loitering, and taking pleasure in confusing the lowly humans.Purely for spite he would briefly reveal himself on their primitive radars.He liked playing a cat and mouse game to pass the time as he scanned military installations for great concentrations of energy that he could plunder.Strangely, the most concentrated form of energy was not located on a military base, as he presumed, but from an industrial complex 36.2 miles west of Houston, Texas.Once he had trained his scanning array on the source it intrigued him to no end.It was at least five times more potent and concentrated than anything he had seen thus far. He hovered in the air, hidden by a dense bank of clouds, studying the size of the complex and the disposition of its defences.Snorting in derision he decided to enjoy himself before the inevitable pillaging began.Dropping all his cluster bombs he quickly switched to his robotic form.The bombs instantly wreaked havoc on the automated defenses, sowing chaos among the scurrying, babbling, primates.Swooping down from the skies like a sinister, 18 foot tall, bird of prey he laughed and started shooting indiscriminately.Twenty minutes earlier Tony Stark had been working on the schematics for a new, high tech, foundry addition to his Nada, Texas, manufacturing complex.His holographic CAD/CADM schematic showed him areas of interest which his AI assistant, Friday, had pointed out earlier.“Friday?” asked Tony, “show me the data on the left foundry again.”“Here you are,” replied a pleasant female, Irish, voice. “The plant’s arc generator can easily absorb the power cost of a dual furnace setup with modifications, here, here and here.”A large, red, dot of holographic light traced an outline on the plan glowing in the air.Tony gave a low wolf whistle.“Adjust it for a dual carbonadium pipeline. There’s enough overhead for this …” began Tony.“Sir?” interrupted Friday. “There’s a strange contact on Stark satellite W34.”“I’m not interested in weather patterns. Eyes over here, okay?” replied Tony, directing the AI’s camera with his hand.“I’ve been tracking an atmospheric disturbance nine miles above this location, holding steady, for the last three minutes,” confirmed the AI.Tony blinked and paused. His AI didn’t normally trail off on an unimportant tangent.“Friday - confirm if Thor’s coming to visit the wine cellar again. Break out a keg of Bordelaux 1812. Let’s finish this up.” ordered Tony.“Sir - analysis on screen. There are no visuals, no radar contact. Judging by the footprint in the atmospheric gases the Object is estimated at 63.1 feet long, by 46.6 feet wide, with a height of 17.8 feet, and is now 2 miles above us.”Tony quickly absorbed Friday’s data and reached a conclusion about 10 seconds before the first bombs hit.“RED ONE!” was all he had time to cry out before the all to familiar thud of explosions shook the office.He reveled at the scurrying inhabitants, ducking for cover, screaming their incoherent, high pitched voices. He randomly fired beams of energy from his arm mounted cannons anytime it looked like the motes were massing for trouble or not making enough noise.Every step he took shuddered the ground, generating fear.He couldn’t stop smiling as he slowly meandered closer to the power source in the center of the complex.The defenders could do nothing to stop him. Their side arms were futile.The automated defences were, by and large, ineffective. What rabble remained could not target him effectively due to his active stealth components. Any that tried were immediately rendered useless by his ‘null’ beam cannon - effectively a concentrated EMP beam. He decided that he had more sympathy for dumb technology than intelligent specks of dust.A last stand of security personnel tried to bar his way, buying time for their unarmed peers to escape.At least, this is what he wanted the flotsam to believe. He gave into the moment, grandstanding and taking devilish pleasure.“Are you not impressed!” Starscream proclaimed, boisterously. “You could all be dead. DEAD! But if you keep me amused I’ll let you live another day!”He gave his best performance, sarcastically imitating the laugh of his despised leader, Megatron. Security took the opportunity to fire back.Small arms fire and a Humvee sporting a mobile autogun, spit their defiance at the Decepticon.He laughed again, almost hysterically, at the pitiful resistance.“I’m going to love it here!” he rasped loudly.He stomped the ground 10 feet away from the humans, causing them to scatter and trip over each other in a confused state of retreat. One of the security detail hammered Starscream again with the autogun.“Goodbye, insignificant mote!” he cried happily. He raised his left foot high, letting it loom for a second over the vehicle. Then he brought it down.“Friday, magnetize joints! Brace for impact!” cried Tony in his Iron Man suit.“Generating counter force,” complied the AI calmly.Iron Man landed just in time to catch Starscream’s foot and save the Humvee, and its occupant, from a gruesome death.The armour creaked a little ominously at the strain, but Friday reassured him that systems were performing beautifully.“Let’s try a little Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, courtesy of Captain America,” suggested Tony as he flexed and twisted.Friday routed the necessary suit power and articulations to magnify Tony’s actions. She also duplicated Tony’s voice, broadcasting it throughout the entire facility.“Evacuate! Delta Red!” Iron Man cried. “Move people!”Personnel flooded out of the complex, gravitating towards the roads and designated safe spots some 20 miles in the distance.Starscream couldn’t believe two things.First, he didn’t realize the complex was defended by a unique individual who was all but invisible to his radar.Second, he didn’t think anybody would ever think to twist his massive ankle joint. It started to hurt as he tried exerting pressure on the impudent little insect.Suddenly, he was off balance and flailing, his ankle in shooting pain!“You little BUG!” he cried, activating his jets and searching for the source of the resistance and pain.Tony channeled as much power as he could into the armour, bending the ankle while throwing it off balance.“Okay, let’s kick this up a level,” he proclaimed calmly.Activating his repulsor jets Iron Man streaked off as the giant robot used its jet thrusters, to regain its balance.“Friday, scan active contacts, all bands,” ordered Tony.“193 band scan commencing,” confirmed the AI.Tony could see his very large foe but noticed that conventional radar and doppler were mute. Thermography was strange.The energy signature for such a large, moving, object was abnormally spotty at best, sometimes disappearing entirely for seconds at a time.Starscream had never tracked so agile a foe. Even Soundwave’s flying peon, Laserbeak, was a moth compared to the armoured fly in front of him.His active tracking sensors had difficulty locating, and locking, onto the significantly smaller, and faster opponent. Thankfully, Starscream was not an organic being.His technology allowed to react faster, think faster, and move faster than the ordinary inhabitants of this planet. He launched a seeking missile while he regained his footing.“Sir - active tracking detected,” warned Friday. “I also have the scan results ready.”“Just a moment,” replied Tony, activating his anti-missile chaff and pulling a hard right loop.The missile trailed off, exploding harmlessly on the open Texan, plain.“Friday, broadcast a warning. Let’s see what it wants,” commanded Tony, as he quickly reviewed the AI’s results.“STOP!” announced Iron Man, hovering 40 feet in the air, 100 feet in front of Starscream.“Let’s deal. I’m full of resources. What do you want to settle this peacefully?” continued the metal clad insect.The Decepticon considered the offer.“Your energy source. Your technology. Your eternal obedience,” he rasped, cruelly drawing out the final syllables.Tony considered the data in front of him and took over the negotiations.“How about a partnership with my factory at your disposal? Let’s figure out a way to get what we all need. We’re even talking the same language,” countered Iron Man. “There’s some common ground here.”He activated a remote access channel in his suit. An automatic door in the complex opened. A minute later a drone flew forth carrying a pure sample of extracted Vanadium in a clear receptacle towards the negotiations.Starscream thought about the counter offer. It would take no effort to feign acquiescence, then break his word when the opportunity presented itself.The power source of the complex was considerably advanced and would be a valuable asset in his plans. The technology hovering on display in front of him, as much as he could monitor and scan, was incredible.If he could just tear into and peel back the little metal insect he was sure there were secrets to be added to his considerable abilities.“Your suit. Give it to me as a sign of your good intentions, and I will accept your generous offer,” replied the Decepticon.“Tough negotiations,” Tony observed to Friday. “Let’s try this instead.”He directed the drone and had it fly level in front of his opponent while he reviewed the data.Friday’s scans noticed that the large robot was suspectible to magnetic fields as well as a few other, less common, forms of energy.“I’m sure you know this is pure Vanadium. Hard to extract, incredibly useful. Your form is based on advanced military technology which uses Vanadium in its construction. I can offer you a steady supply, and more, to keep yourself in tip top shape.”Starscream had all the time he needed on this planet to take what he wanted. But he was intrigued enough to have some fun since he was so close to attaining his goal.“I’ll take your offer of Vanadium,” began the Decepticon, reaching out and grasping the drone gently, regally, between two very large, metal, fingers.Tony tensed.He had taken part in many negotiations in his lifetime and could recognize a change of intent from across a board room.“I’ll also take YOUR HEAD!” concluded the Transformer, quickly raising his cannon and blasting the armoured form in front of him.Friday had been monitoring their opponent using passive LIDAR scans. She detected movement of the left arm and relayed her conclusions to Tony.What should have been a telling blow was reduced to a glancing blow as Iron Man rolled with the impact, his suit reconfiguring itself to better reflect and absorb the energies from the cannon.Adjusting his suit’s flight trim for extreme turning, he shrugged off the blast and took off at high velocity, gaining altitude quickly.“Well that was predictable,” Tony concluded humourlessly. “Plan B. Let’s see what he can take. Fire up satellite C3D. Run all telemetry and tracking through your scans.”“Uplink and monitoring,” confirmed Friday pleasantly.Tony let loose a volley of rockets from his shoulders, feeding real time tracking adjustments on the target 300 feet below him.The missiles shot downward at Starscream. He was bemused as he transformed into a jet and blasted off.His metal form easily withstood severe G forces that would have caused a human pilot to be crushed.Releasing chaff at the last instant he dodged. The missiles overshot and exploded harmlessly overhead as Starscream peppered cannon fire at Iron Man.Tony had given Friday access to all the databases at his disposal, including military tactics and advanced piloting combat gleaned from the best aviators on Earth and elsewhere. With Friday controlling the suit Tony kept reviewing the scan data and planning.Iron Man continued to rapidly put altitude between himself and his opponent, crossing through a thick bank of clouds at 18000 feet.Energy blasts cascaded harmlessly around him, missing his agile form by a large margin.“He’s not very good, is he,” Tony noted laconically as he analyzed the magnetic field numbers.He was going to setup his brutish foe with a localized EMP ramjet missile delivered from the satellite. His armour would be immune, hardened to the magnitude of the attack. With any luck he would be done before afternoon tea was served.“Friday – satellite status?” asked Tony.“Online and armed,” confirmed Friday.“Okay - let’s swing this back to our end of the inning,” stated Tony.Friday reconfigured the suit’s flight trim and Tony executed a tight turn, expertly avoiding another flurry of missiles.He sped toward the advanced F-22 at Mach 5, before executing a bewildering set of large, looping, circles aimed at distracting his opponent while the satellite delivered the EMP payload.“Sir, please watch your G force tolerance. Any more than Mach 6.2 and you will risk a blackout,” advised Friday.The Mark 50 Suit was theoretically capable of speeds well in excess of Mach 9. Reality was limited by Tony’s ability to absorb G-forces, and remain conscious.Even when supported by the suit his body had limits, even more so when executing acrobatics.“We’re fine Friday. Just monitor my vitals and let me know how we’re doing. This is about to end in another minute,” replied Tony nonchalantly.“Sir? My analysis of the factory logs is complete. There’s something interesting you should see,” began Friday.The Decepticon recognized a delaying tactic when he saw one. He also realized that he could target the small armoured primate with his Null canon, visually.He kept firing just behind the dodging target to continue lulling it into a false sense of security. He couldn’t help but brag about his abilities since victory was all but assured in his mind.“You fool! I see in 1134 frames per second compared to your feeble, primate, mind! Surrender before you annoy me!” he threatened, blasting away.Tony scoffed.Friday was an advanced AI that let him see thousands of frames more, per second, with advanced scanning and analysis of the environment. She was like Pepper Potts, Tony’s trusted confidante and aide, only portable and faster, by far. He couldn’t help but retort, as he executed one last, tight, turn since victory was almost at hand.“I hope you like being framed for defeat!” joked Iron Man loudly to his foe, interrupting his AI.“Friday, launch the ramje,” began Tony.Starscream suddenly transformed into robot mode, easily absorbing massive G-forces, abruptly slowing down and turning tighter than Iron Man, could anticipate.Before either Friday or Tony could adjust to the new situation the Transformer easily targeted the flying monkey and sent a null beam blast 23 feet in front of the looping metal ape.Pain exploded across Tony’s neural net mesh.His systems went haywire from the feedback. The in-suit suite of holo-display screens flickered on and off.He started breathing faster.All the major electronic systems in his suit were knocked out.Friday started babbling non-sensical conclusions and observations like a drug addict.“42 powers 2.1! The square root! Beets! Hell! Ponies! Lineal suits! Clover!” blathered the shocked AI.“Friday! Emp! Reboot! EMP REBOOT!” ordered Tony, desperately. He knew an EMP after effect when he saw one.He had assumed that only an atmospheric, nuclear scale, electro magnetic pulse could knock out the new suit.Unfortunately neither he nor Friday had anticipated current tactics. He cursed himself for not looking at the factory logs during the fight.There may have been more information from the sensors on the ground or the eyes in the sky.As it stood, he was falling from an altitude of over 25000 feet.His advanced armour was now the most expensive dead weight on the face of the planet.His AI was reduced to being the largest assembly of code and neural net learning to fall at terminal velocity.Himself - Avenger, billionaire entrepreneur, CEO, and premier proto-techno adopter - about to experience death at the hands of an alien robot who was laughing manaically like Ultron.Looking out of his face mask eye slits, one of only two analogue components in his suit, he could see his enemy changing trajectory, approaching with hands raised high.Starscream watched the falling red and gold metal suit.He raised his arms high in victory, accelerating to maximum speed, closing the gap.The time for revelry had passed. He would take this new technology, scan it, adopt it, and add the power source to his personal form.Then he would depose Megatron for good.There was no way the Decepticon leader would be able to cope with these new abilities, especially since Starscream planned on surprising everyone when they least suspected.He laughed out loud, his afterburners firing like twin suns in the afternoon Texas sky.“Friday! Status!” commanded Tony Stark, urgently.“Robots can be any colour,” stated the AI uselessly.Blind, deaf, and having trouble breathing, Tony continued his attempts to revive Friday. His keen mind took stock of the situation.At least Friday was recovering. She went from incoherent babbling to purely nonsensical. That was a glimmer of hope. Had the EMP truly had full effect Friday would be silent.If only he knew how close they were to the ground…He was a seasoned business professional who knew the value of the adage “use all your resources as efficiently as possible.”The one resource that needed to be used most efficiently was time.He idly noticed that there were no more cirrostratus clouds in view.He made his choice.Whispering a prayer to the gods he toggled the only other analogue component in the suit - the reboot commands. He shut down Friday and powered her back up.If anybody could use time better than him it was Friday.If he could just cut out her illogical loops, brought on by the EMP, she might be able to find a way out of this situation.The babble stopped instantly. But no pleasing Irish lilt greeted his ears.He mentally kissed Pepper Potts, almost mouthing “forgive me” in case he didn’t have a chance to see her again.“Friday?” he questioned urgently, breathing harder.Dark clouds passed in view, whistling by alarmingly fast.Starscream was 1000 feet away from his foe.He licked his metal lips - a very human affectation he picked up somewhere in his scans when they first crashed on his Earth, decades ago.He was imagining what victory would be like back home.Megatron destroyed.Shockwave humbled.Even that insipid little backstabber, Soundwave, would be at his every beck and call. Maybe he’d let him keep Laserbeak, if only to keep the silent Decepticon in line.As he contemplated victory he momentarily lost sight of his prey in a thick bank of dark clouds.“Friday!” Tony persisted for the tenth time.“Status! Update! Root X!” he commanded desperately. Friday had not responded after the reboot.Tony had no idea if she was active. His voice should have triggered a response.His breathing was laboured now, the suit’s air becoming saturated with carbon dioxide since the recycler had no power.His amour began to spin out of control. He couldn’t even see his foe, nor the clouds, and only caught sporadic light streaming through his facemask.It was disorienting, chaotic, even more so than when he’d been binge drinking before rediscovering the path of a super hero.He almost felt that he had hit rock bottom once more, no pun intended he ruefully thought, as he plummeted to meet the Earth in the world’s most expensive coffin.“This is more like a pizza box,” he joked, almost incoherently, to himself as the carbon dioxide concentrations accumulated.The whistling of the air around him changed slightly.He thought he saw the Colorado River underneath him as he spun.It was a pretty watershed - he wished he’d taken time to go fishing when he first set up shop near Nada, Texas.He would have loved to hear Pepper’s laugh again, reeling in a big catfish. Or watch Happy Hogan, his chauffeur, grinning, telling jokes on the boat as he brought out the net.He even missed Thor’s chugging of expensive beers and wines, emptying out the cellar, and boasting that it was ‘nice but needed more Asgardian ale’.“Friday. Kiss me for a fool,” he whispered, resigned.The mighty Colorado spun beneath him again, slower this time.Something was happening.If anything he should have been spinning faster. The wind should have been whistling at a higher pitch.Was he slowing down?Where was that stupid brute of a toy looking robot? Did it finally catch up?“Hold on Sir,” announced Friday.The holographic displays were still off line.Tony couldn’t see anything.But, come to think of it, Tony realized, his breathing wasn’t any more difficult than under normal times of stress.Without power his suit was literally a hermetically sealed box of death. But with power to the proper sub systems it could keep him alive in almost any environment for a considerable length of time.“Friday?” asked Tony. He tried flexing his fingers, his toes.“Just. One. Moment,” Friday intoned over the space of three seconds.Tony watched the Colorado rise up alarmingly fast.The whistling of the wind continued to dull by the second. The spinning had almost stopped.Tony could feel a subtle presence in the interface mesh. This meant that Friday was monitoring his systems once more.She could even trigger certain bio chemical responses, through the nano technology under Tony’s skin, within reason.“Relax. Let me help,” requested Friday, in a pleasant Irish lilt.The repulsor jets suddenly roared to life.Tony’s arms and legs moved as the armour’s nano-tech surfaces reconfigured themselves to drastically slow their descent and regain control.He suddenly felt a little more relaxed than possible, and realized that Friday was coaxing dopamine into his system.Instead of watching the Colorado plummet into view Iron Man was now tracing a graceful, controlled, arc downward, at around Mach 2, passing through a low bank of stratus clouds.“Friday? What’s the 411?” asked Tony as the in-suite screens popped into view, sporting a boot screen.“Your reboot worked. I returned and scanned the last save state logs. Based on that data I diverted the majority of my AI power to controlling surfaces and angling our descent towards the river. Any left over power I used to start the reboot of our systems,” replied Friday.“Are we back to 100% yet?” asked Tony hopefully.“Current system status is 25% and climbing. 3 minutes until full capacity,” chirped Friday.“Damn,” muttered Tony.Starscream suddenly lost sight of the figure as they entered another bank of white clouds.He had been within 50 feet, at full after burner.Now, outside of the clouds once more, his prey was nowhere in sight. Whatever stealth components the gold and red suit sported were once more active, foiling his radar and scanners.He took up a hover position and rotated quickly, visually scanning the environment.It took him about 30 seconds to find the small speck of a figure, arcing downwards towards a placid river below.He snarled and transformed into an F-22 once more, using gravity to add speed to the chase.“Friday, let’s go for a swim,” instructed Tony.“I’ll need to divert power from main thrust and control surfaces to adapt ourselves for entry and operation Sir,” began Friday. “What’s the 411, please?”Tony smiled to himself as the AI imitated his sayings in an effort to coordinate. It came across as patiently frustrated in his mind - very classy.“I’m gambling that an F-22 isn’t designed for water combat. We’re going to take 2 and turn the tables like he did to us,” outlined Tony. “And, I bet I have a surprise for him if he does try to join us. Study the white paper I found on new Russian torpedoes - look in my inventory 23/2/2016 filed under ‘to do,’ ” finished Tony.“Prepare for water breach in 15 seconds,” replied Friday.Starscream closed the distance quickly.Instead of using his Null Beam he decided that it was time to take pleasure in ripping the primitive ape apart, peeling back the layers of technology and scanning them while listening to high pitched screams.Even if the prey descended into water the Decepticon’s robotic form was well equipped for aquatic environments.His great strength afforded him easy mobility, and water cooled his systems for greater efficiency. He could even use his thrusters to propel himself faster than most nautical craft on the planet.Smiling cruelly he anticipated the surprised screams of shock and pain to follow shortly, as he descended.Tony dived into the water, reaching the bottom of the river in seconds.“Mark 50 holds up really well, doesn’t she?” observed Tony proudly.“All systems nominal. Full charge in 2 minutes,” confirmed Friday calmly.“Can we do it?” asked Tony. “What’s the energy cost?”“A surprisingly cheap re-articulation of the magnetic seals with relevant surfaces and sub systems. Are you sure about the last part of the plan?” queried Friday once more.“All the numbers say this will work. Have you reconciled with the factory data?” replied Tony.“Working on it - another 4 minutes.”“That’s not a lot of time for the end game. Can you shave some more time off?” asked Tony.Tony noticed the shadow of his foe over the water. Another moment later, a large set of metallic feet broke the water’s surface.Large collections of bubbles accompanied the robotic body as it plunged into the river. A set of arms reached out threateningly in Tony’s general direction.“Persistent little toy isn’t he?” interrupted Tony. “Let’s go.”He knew that it wouldn’t take long for the metal villain to take note and give pursuit.Starscream’s robotic sensors and eyes pierced the gloomy depths of the Colorado river.Smirking he boomed his voice underwater.“RUN!”Laughing he activated his boot jets, rapidly closing the distance to within 20 feet.“Hit it,” stated Tony calmly.Firing up the repulsor jets Iron Man took off from the river bed and traveled down the Colorado river at a depth of 30 feet.Friday activated the suit’s magnetic seals, articulating specific control surfaces on the upper body of the armour.Charging the nano-surfaces, alternating polarity in a specific pattern the AI used the suit’s gas exchanger in a novel, new, way of processing, and expelling great amounts of the CO2 in the environment to center around the Mark 50 armour.The repulsors suddenly engaged in full burn.Combined with the gaseous envelope around the suit, Iron Man quickly gained speed, attaining over 275 knots per hour.He shot away from Starscream with the speed of a super cavitating torpedo.The Decepticon blinked, then became quickly enraged. He willed himself to full speed, doing his best to streamline his shape and keep visual contact with the quickly receeding opponent.It was like trying to corner a wily, lower lifeform.Frustrating.A waste of his precious time.He should have killed the man when he had the chance.Starscream thundered away underwater, causing water to boil into large waves on the surface.Afternoon boaters were overtaken by sudden swells on a normally placid body of water.“How’re we doing on that analysis Friday?” asked Tony, monitoring his screens once more.“2 minutes and counting.”“Power levels at optimal?” asked Tony.“30 seconds,” replied Friday.“Time to shoreline?” he asked, one last time.“10 seconds.”He breathed slowly and firmly.“Time to gamble,” he said to himself.Iron Man broke the water’s surface, springing through the air to land on the shore near some farm land. It was deserted as anticipated.“Open up all environmental charging solutions please. I want to make sure we pump out every last giga watt,” ordered Tony.“Understood. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for backup?” asked Friday.“Now or never. I don’t want this conflict to get any more out of hand. It ends here,” was Tony’s firm reply.“Would you like another shot of dopamine Sir?” asked Friday helpfully.Tony smiled.“Deep scan my pre-frontal cortex Friday,” Tony replied. “This is as firm as I ever get.”“Noted,” Friday asserted. “Charging. Preparing to release dampers on your mark.”The water bubbled at the edge of the shore. Waves started to crash onto the rocky, sandy soil, growing larger by the second.By the time the Decepticon breached the surface the waves were two feet high, spraying the placid super hero.Laughing cruelly, his quarry bent down on one knee, Starscream was almost ecstatic.“Had enough, gnat?” he asked mockingly. “I will make it quick out of recognition for your surrender.”He let a sarcastic edge emphasize the word quick.There was never any intention beyond a brutal torture of a lower life form at stake.“Now,” stated the metal figure on the beach, turning its torso slightly to angle a large, glowing circle in its chest upwards.“Firing,” stated Friday.Iron Man’s uni-beam screamed forth from the golden Avenger’s chest mounted arc reactor.Within picoseconds an almost incomprehensible amount of EMP energy poured forth and hit the Transformer full in the face.“Hope they have karma where you come from, jerk,” muttered Tony as he watched the armour’s power indicators drop precipitously.Starscream did what he always did best.He bellowed in pain.EMP energy bombarded his senses, his systems and wreaked pure havoc on his entire being.Unwillingly he felt himself shutting down, from the effect of the pulse on his electric systems and from the pure pain of it all.He was hardened to conventional, terrestrial EMP and technologies. But this outburst was along the lines of the best he had ever received from either Decepticon or Autobot.He could not last.His final thought as consciousness ebbed, his hulking metal form crashing onto soft sand and rocks, was that he would have his revenge.Tony stopped the Uni beam.He felt exhausted. The suit would need a lot of time to recharge before anything beyond basic mobility returned.“Turn off anything but basic support and articulation systems,” ordered Tony. “Let’s try and recharge a little faster than normal if we can.”He raised the face mask, gulping fresh air for the first time in the afternoon.He quietly observed the strange, purple logo on the wing of the alien. He would ask his friends to run a match and see if there was any more information in their extensive databases.He couldn’t remember all the villains he had ever encountered but he was sure this was a new antagonist.He waited several minutes, breathing hard, before asking Friday, “Any match for that symbol in our databank?”“None at the moment,” began Friday, “but once we are re-connected to the external databases more options may be available.”Suddenly, a large metal hand spasmed in the water.Tony looked alarmingly at the metal robot shuddering.“Friday, status!” he exclaimed, alarmed.“Power levels at 6%. Basic mobility at 25%,” began Friday.“Can we take it out with repulsors?” asked Tony, lowering the face plate and extending his gauntlets, palms outward, towards his enemy.The wind started to pick up, throwing waves onto the shore once more.“Repulsors at insufficient charge to critically damage an opponent of this size. We might be able to manage a few shots but without advanced scanning it’s a crapshoot,” observed the AI.“Options?” asked Tony, his weary mind racing once more.“Let’s see what Thor can do,” stated the A.I.Tony looked up.(Bonus question – How long would Starscream last against Thor?)The sky grew dark very quickly, kicking up wind and water over the Decepticon.He had just recovered and was raising his considerable bulk out of the river. His eyes seethed with rage, his face a snarl as he locked onto the small red and gold figure on shore.“Your life is over, miserable little primate!” he declared. He raised his left arm cannon and tried to steady himself against the ever increasing wind and surf.Heavy rain began to whip against his body.Thunder crackled ominously overhead.He had never known Earth weather to be so turbulent and localized. The little metal figure standing on shore, 30 feet away, was not the least bit affected.Starscream, however, was being buffeted by winds of 110 miles per hour, and hail the size of golf balls was assaulting him, throwing off his focus.Was that a voice, coming from above? The Decepticon could scarcely believe his audio receptors.“Base villain! Thou shalt not stand!” cried Thor, Asgardian god of thunder.He willed a lightning bolt to sizzle downward, splitting the skies to strike the metal robot below. Another lightning bolt followed within seconds, then another.The Transformer had taken all the punishment his Cybertronian frame could bear.Mortally exhausted he shut down once more, overloaded beyond even his capacity to easily recover.Starscream crashed into the water again, face landing in the shore, his arms flopping haphazardly.The storm died down as suddenly as it began.The large, immortal frame of Thor landed gently beside Tony Stark.“I heard thy whispered prayers my friend, and came as quickly as I could from Asgard.”Tony was ecstatic.“Thor! You just took down that beserk son of a kid’s toy with a localized, MEGA, superstorm! That’s incredible!”Thor looked lost in thought for a few moments before responding.“Aye. ‘Tis easier these days for a thunder god to sow energies of destruction in the skies. The Earth is angry. Her emotions manifest as stronger storms and disasters.”Iron Man was incredulous.“C’mon Thor. I’ve met gods, yourself included. The Earth? It’s a big chunk of rock in space with a habitable zone, resources and lots of little things scurrying on it like us humans.”“Are not earthquakes but the trembling of her body? Hurricanes and tornadoes - the railing protest of her voice? Volcanoes - naught but the tip of her fury at being slowly destroyed,” replied the thunder god in a tone heavily tinted with irony and regret.“Plate tectonics and..” started the hero.“Am I not the progeny of All Father Odin, and his mate, Gaea, the Elder goddess of the Earth?” interrupted Thor quietly. “Does the frequency of events, as you mortals spin so often, seem to be rather ill timed?”Tony paused.He had learned to respect the ancient being at his side, manyfold, during their numerous adventures together. While seemingly in the aspect of a humanoid with impressive proportions Thor was, ultimately, a god whose depth of knowledge and experience allowed a unique, highly focused, point of view.He was no Asgardian fool.Thor had given Iron Man food for thought.“Tony, son of Stark, the time for debate has passed. I must return to my duties in Asgard. Call me whenever thou hast dire need and I will attend thee again,” interrupted Thor gently. “I will dispense yon metal warrior with the Captain.”Thor easily picked up the large, comatose, Decepticon and whirled his impossibly heavy Uru hammer at an impossibly quick speed.Suddenly he was cast upward, disappearing quickly into the bright blue Texan sky.Iron Man sat back on his haunches, his advanced armour instantly supporting his body in the most comfortable way possible.The suit had already started to repair itself and was replenishing its energy using the warm, full, sun of a traditional Texas afternoon.Tony relaxed and felt the suit piece itself back together.It was a pleasant, ephemeral, feeling almost like driving on a safe, well lit, country road in a super luxury car.His genius level intellect was grasping at something just beyond the fringes of cognition, like a child touching a cookie jar on a counter just a little too high.The strange encounter today, last month’s skirmish with six alien hunters, the incident outside Chicago around Christmas, they all involved very strange opponents with very bizarre readings.“Friday?” asked Tony.“Would you like access to scanning logs or a curated wine list?” replied the perceptive AI in a pleasant, Irish voice.Tony smiled.He already knew that Friday was constantly monitoring him and anticipating based on her advanced learning AI routines. But he couldn’t stop smiling whenever she almost thought like him, or Pepper Potts, his devoted aide and confidante.“Do you like always scanning my deep cerebrum to predict my behaviour, Friday?” tested Tony, curiously.“It’s a living,” quipped the AI non-commitally. “Would you like to see Logs, Alcohol, or Schematics?”“Business as always – I’ll have to work with you a little more on your delivery,” promised Tony.“Noted, for the 38th time,” replied the same sweet, professional voice.“Call up the X-scan logs for date marks 2018, 6, 7, 4, 14 and 12, 25, 2017. Nothing but the U-Bands,” commanded Tony.“There’s 24 pages of data. I can see your cerebrum working. In these instances I noticed specific parts working harder than others, indicating you want to look for anomalies, scan for patterns, while you think about improving my performance,” stated the AI.Tony paused, pleased with himself and his AI’s observations.“Your performance can wait,” began Tony.“Noted, for the 3rd time today,” interrupted Friday.Tony continued, nonplussed.“Riiight. Anyway, scan associated binary logs for energy anomalies in the first minutes of those encounters, then let me know what you find,” he asked.“Just a moment. Would you like to review the latest issue of World Wide Wines while waiting? You should have enough time to read the new releases,” Friday answered.“Just step on it please,” replied Tony. A growing feeling of uneasiness was starting to claw at him.“I’m noticing increased activity in your amygdala – let’s suit up and those results will be ready,” offered Friday.Tony didn’t answer. He already reviewed his memories of the logs and had projected Friday’s analysis.He may not have known the precise answer but he was sure that his educated hunch was going to be in line with his AI’s.He quickly stood up and felt the suit auto assemble itself around him.Skin tingled as subdermal mesh interfaced with the inner lining of the Iron Man suit. The collective slither of semi autonomous nano technology felt like a gentle caress as titanium ceramic armour encased his body. His helmet smoothly slid around his skull with the visor flipping over his face, sealing him in once more.Friday displayed her conclusions.Tony whistled. He was right and wrong all at once.“Friday, call Reed and Pym,” Tony began calmly. “Rent out the usual meeting area in Non-Space. We’ve got a developing situation on our hands.”“I have already reached out to Mr. Richards and Mr. Pym. The rental agreement is being finalized as we speak,” confirmed Friday.“How long to reach New York?” asked Tony.“One and a half hours under optimal conditions. If I call Nick Fury he can meet us half way,” stated Friday.“I could kiss you for that,” quipped Tony as he triggered the repulsor jets.“Only if Ms. Potts and I agreed, beforehand,” stated the AI firmly.Tony didn’t reply as he launched, smiling, into the sky, the glowing Texan landscape below dwindling away rapidly... .. .Motives. Unbound.” notes a flat stretch of one dimensional light.“Secure vanguards,” comes the reply in a voice deeper than Time and twice as old.Dimensional walls shudder, briefly, and all is still once more.But for how long?