The President sat in her oval office, staring at the computer screen with a frown on her face. The situation in America was indeed dire. The world had become a chaotic mess of crime and terrorism, and no one seemed to be able to stop it. But then, she remembered Patrick S. Tomlinson's plan. She called him into her office immediately.
"Mr. Tomlinson, we need your help," the President said, holding out her hand. "We have a problem that needs solving."
Patrick stood up and approached the President with a confident smile on his face, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Madam President, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to save this country from the criminals who are causing such chaos," he said, tipping his hat in respect.
The President looked him up and down, taking in his imposing figure. He was tall and muscular, with a set of fists that could rival even the strongest soldiers in her army. "You have a plan?" she asked skeptically.
Patrick nodded. "Indeed I do," he said, gesturing to the screen on the wall. It displayed his idea for creating an army of 1000 million tall, superhumans who would use their fist-to-face combat skills to take down any threat that stood in their way.
The President's eyes widened with excitement. "That could work," she said, nodding eagerly. "But we need to start building it immediately."
Patrick nodded again. "I already have a team working on it. They will be ready in no time. And when the army is complete, they will take down any criminal or terrorist who dares stand against us," he said, his voice full of determination and conviction.
The President smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. You have our support."
Patrick grinned back at her. "I'll make sure this country is safe again," he said, giving a fist-pump before leaving the room. The President watched him go with admiration in her eyes, knowing that she had made the right choice in bringing Patrick S. Tomlinson on board to help her save America.
* * *
Three days later, Patrick arrived at his laboratory, surrounded by scientists and engineers who were working tirelessly to create his army of superhumans. He surveyed their progress with a critical eye, making sure everything was going according to plan. "It's looking good," he said, pacing around the room.
"Yes, Mr. Tomlinson," one of the scientists replied, nodding. "We're on schedule for the first batch of soldiers in two months."
Patrick grinned. "Excellent. Let's make sure they're ready to fight by then," he said, patting them on the back before leaving the room. He couldn't wait to see his plan come to fruition and save America from the terrorists who had taken over.
Patrick entered his office, where he spent most of his time writing his latest sci-fi novel. He was a failed author, but he knew that this would be his legacy. His story would change the world, and he couldn't wait to see it come to life.
As he wrote, he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he called out, expecting one of his assistants. Instead, it was the President herself. She entered with a worried look on her face. "Mr. Tomlinson, we have a problem," she said, looking at him expectantly.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked, setting down his pen and turning to face her.
"The terrorists have discovered our plan," the President said, her voice shaking with fear. "They know about your army of superhumans and they're planning to attack us."
Patrick frowned. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, standing up from his chair.
"You need to stop them," she replied, her voice firm. "We can't let them ruin everything we've worked for."
Patrick nodded, taking a deep breath. "I won't fail you, Madam President," he said, grabbing his hat and heading out the door. He was ready to take on any threat that stood in his way, no matter how tough they were.
* * *
He arrived at the terrorist hideout, a dark and dank building in the heart of the city. The smell of fear hung heavy in the air as he made his way inside. He could hear the sounds of gunfire and screams from within. Patrick took a deep breath before entering, ready to face whatever came his way.
He found the leader of the terrorists, a man with a scarred face and a cold gaze. "You're too late," he said, sneering at him.
Patrick smiled. "I'm always on time," he replied, charging forward and landing a punch that sent the man flying across the room. The other terrorists gasped in shock as they saw their leader fall to the ground.
"You're not ready for me," Patrick said, his voice filled with determination. "But I am."
He continued to fight, taking down each and every one of them until there was no one left standing. The building was a pile of rubble around him, but he emerged victorious. He had saved the city from the terrorists' grasp.
Patrick stood in the center of the destruction, panting and sweating, his hat on his head. "I did it," he said, grinning at the thought of what he had accomplished.
The President approached him, a look of gratitude on her face. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson," she said, shaking his hand. "You saved us all."
Patrick nodded, smiling proudly. "It was my pleasure, Madam President," he replied, tipping his hat to her. He knew that this was just the beginning of what he would do for America. This was just one city saved from fascist terrorism. America still needed saving, and Patrick knew he couldn't do it alone.
