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Episode 7: Mighty, Mighty Man August 3rd, 1946. Los Angeles, California. Waverly Memorial Hospital “The movie world was saddened today following reports of the death of Whitney Frost.” Jack Thompson sat in bed looking at magazine and listening to the news over the radio. “Whitney Frost, the starlet who had captured the hearts of millions,” the announcer went on. “Had recently suffered a nervous breakdown, requiring her to be institutionalized at Metropolitan State Hospital. Though authorities have been tight lipped about the details, they have confirmed that the hospital had been the site of an attack that left several doctors, nurses, and patients injured and dead. At this moment, the only confirmed name is Whitney Frost.” “Good,” said Jack, turning a page in his magazine. “One less psycho in the world.” There was a knock outside of the door, but Jack continued flipping through the magazine as he answered. “Come in!” Samberly peeked his head inside and walked in, carrying a small, white box. “Evening, chief,” he said in an enforced cheerful tone. Jack didn’t look up from the magazine. “What do you want, Samberly?” The scientist cleared his throat. “Oh, nothing, chief. I just came to give you this box of fudge, that I… well, actually it was Rose who…” “Just set it on the table. I’ll be sure it eat it later.” Jack looked up to see Samberly, shuffling nervously. “Is that all?” Samberly coughed again. “Well, I mean, chief. The thing is there might be a small problem. I mean, it could be a huge problem, but…” “Samberly!” Jack snapped. Samberly gulped as Jack glared at him impatiently. If you have something to say, say it!” Samberly took a deep breath before continuing. “Well, chief, there was a call at the office for you. It was from Chief Sousa. From London.” Jack tossed the magazine on the side table. “What did he say? Anything about Nick Driscoll?” “I’m sorry, chief. He did mention a Driscoll, but he said that he had been killed.” Jack let his head fall back against the wall. “Damn. All this over a redacted file.” “But, chief, that’s not the problem.” Jack looked annoyed at Samberly. Samberly instantly showed shock as he tried to back track. “I mean, uh, it is a problem about your friend dying and all, but… The problem is that I’m not sure how he could have done it.” “Done what? Died?” “No. Called.” “Called who?” “Me.” Jack took a deep breath then motioned to Samberly. “Samberly? Come a little closer.” Samberly took a step next to Jack’s bed. Jack grabbed a hold of Samberly’s tie and pulled him across the bed. “Now, Samberly,” Jack said dangerously. “Tell me what the hell you’re talking about!” Samberly flailed helplessly for a moment before answering. “Chief! Chief Sousa. He couldn’t have called from London. Because he was at the talent agency yesterday!” Jack loosened his grip on Samberly’s tie. “It was during the attack at the hospital,” Samberly gasped. “He came in and said he found a lead on a… thing that I had been investigating for him. And he asked me to give him the… thing, so I did.” Jack’s expression dropped. “A pin? And Arena Club pin?” Samberly was taken aback. He looked at Jack in shock. “Yes. How did you know?” Jack pointed to the door. “Get to the office now! I want everything we have on Whitney Frost! That includes anything involving Joseph Manfredi! I’ve been sitting in this bed for too long. Time to get to work! Move it!” Samberly quickly scurried to the door, pausing to look at Jack. “Chief? Did I do something wrong?” Jack looked balefully at Samberly. “Well, Samberly, I’m pretty sure you haven’t done anything right.” Collinsville, IL. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Bob Frank. Madeline stood before the stranger who held her husband up by the throat. “Please,” she begged. “Let him go!” “NO!” the man yelled. “Not until we talked.” His voice suddenly softened. “We could always talk, remember? They let us practice flying together. The two of us, alone above the clouds.” “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “Maddie, just get out of here!” Bob wheezed. “He’s crazy!” “SHUT UP!” the man snapped. “You say another word and I’ll snap your neck right here!” “No! Please!” Madeline pleaded. The man looked back to Madeline. “We were meant to be together. Miss America and Fighting Yank. We fought together! We killed together!” “I’ve never killed anyone!” “LIAR!” Fighting Yank roared. Miss America has obviously been compromised. Proceed to Doctor Benton for check up. “Stop talking!” “Nobody said anything,” said Madeline, her breathing becoming more shaky. “Please, what do you want from us?” Fighting Yank closed his eyes, flinching in pain. “You have to remember. You have to make sense of it all. I keep seeing them. Hearing them. The screams. The blood. So much blood.” He opened his eyes and glared accusingly at Madeline. “And you were there. You left me behind! You let them lock me away! How could you do that to me, Madeline?” Madeline started sobbing in fear. “Look, I don’t know you. I’ve never met you. Please let my husband go! We won’t tell anyone about this! Just go!” Fighting Yank held her gaze as Bob’s hand fumbled around the frying pan on the stove. “Not without you, Madeline. You’ll make it all make sense. And then we’ll be together. Just like we were supposed to.” Bob finally took hold of the frying pan and swung it at Fighting Yank’s head. The clang of metal against skull reverberated around the kitchen. Out of surprise rather than pain, Fighting Yank dropped Bob to the floor. He looked up at the terrified Madeline. “Maddie! Run!” Fighting Yank grabbed him by the leg and hurled Bob across the kitchen. He crashed into the refrigerator door, and within seconds Fighting Yank was over him with fist raised. “She doesn’t belong to you!” he screamed. “You can’t protect her! I will!” The fist rushed toward Bob, who closed his eyes tight. But no impact came. Bob opened his eyes to see Madeline grabbing a hold of Fighting Yank’s arm, preventing the blow from landing. “That’s. Enough!” Madeline shouted. She threw Fighting Yank to the floor behind her, shattering the tiled floor. Bob looked in shock at his wife. “Maddie? How did you…” “No time for that, Bob! You have to go!” Fighting Yank rose to his feet, staring disbelieving at Madeline. “Why did you do that? After all we’ve been through?!” Miss America has been compromised. You must complete the mission. ‘Over there! Over there!’ Fighting Yank gripped his head and groaned in pain. “There’s no way I’m leaving without you!” Bob yelled as he pulled himself up with the refrigerator handle. “Honey, I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that between the two of us I’m the only one who stands a chance with him! Now go!” Fighting Yank’s head suddenly jerked up as he fixed his maddened eyes at Madeline. “TRAITOR!!” He flew toward Madeline crashed through the kitchen wall into the living room. “Maddie!” Bob yelled, but Madeline was already on her feet. She kicked off her heels and let herself rise off the floor. “You’ve invaded my home, you hurt my husband,” she said glaring down on Fighting Yank. “I might not know who you are, but I know you’ve just made your last mistake!” OK: Can Miss America subdue the maddened Fighting Yank? Will Fighting Yank have Miss America and Bob at his mercy? Stay Tuned and Find Out! Game On!