Abraham Lincoln: Kung Fu President

Written and Edited by Fred Wood
Assisted by ChatGPT by OpenAI

Chapter 1
What if?

If Abraham Lincoln had survived the assassination attempt at Ford Theater, it is likely that the course of American history would have been significantly altered.

At the time of the assassination, Lincoln was in the midst of leading the country through the Civil War and the process of Reconstruction. With his death, Vice President Andrew Johnson assumed the presidency and continued Lincoln's policies, but faced significant opposition from Congress and was ultimately impeached.

If Lincoln had lived, it is possible that he would have been able to successfully navigate the challenges of Reconstruction and unite the country in a way that Johnson was unable to. Lincoln was known for his political savvy and ability to find compromise, and it is possible that he would have been able to work with Congress to pass more moderate Reconstruction measures.

Additionally, Lincoln's survival may have had major implications for the future of African American civil rights. Lincoln was a vocal advocate for the rights of African Americans, and it is likely that he would have continued to push for their rights and equality after the Civil War. This could have paved the way for more significant advances in civil rights in the years following the war, potentially leading to a quicker end to segregation and discrimination.

One area where Lincoln's survival may have had a particularly significant impact was in the area of Reconstruction-era politics. After the Civil War, many Southern states were controlled by conservative "Redeemer" governments that sought to roll back the progress made by African Americans during the war. If Lincoln had lived, it is possible that he would have been able to push back against these conservative forces and prevent the rise of Jim Crow laws and other discriminatory policies.

Furthermore, Lincoln's continued leadership may have also had implications for the United States' relations with foreign countries. At the time of his assassination, Lincoln was in the midst of negotiating the end of the Civil War with the Confederate States of America. If he had survived, it is possible that he would have been able to broker a more favorable peace deal for the Union, potentially leading to a more stable post-war world.

In addition to these political implications, Lincoln's survival may have also had personal consequences. Lincoln was deeply affected by the death of his son Willie in 1862, and it is likely that the trauma of the assassination attempt and the loss of his close friend and advisor, William Seward, would have further impacted him. It is possible that Lincoln's continued struggles with grief and loss may have influenced his presidency and decision-making in the years following the assassination attempt.

Overall, if Abraham Lincoln had survived the assassination attempt at Ford Theater, it is likely that the course of American history would have been significantly altered. Lincoln's continued leadership and political savvy may have helped to unite the country and prevent the rise of discriminatory policies, potentially leading to a more equal and just society.

It is impossible to say with certainty how Abraham Lincoln could have avoided being assassinated. The assassination attempt at Ford Theater was carried out by John Wilkes Booth, a well-known actor and Confederate sympathizer, who had been planning the attack for months.

There were some steps that Lincoln could have taken to try to protect himself, such as increasing his security detail and avoiding public appearances. However, it is unlikely that these measures would have been able to prevent a determined assassin like Booth and his co-conspirators from carrying out the attack.

In the end, the only way for Lincoln to have completely avoided being assassinated would have been for the attack not to have happened at all. This would have required either Booth to not have planned the attack, or for the attack to have been foiled by law enforcement or other means before it could be carried out.

Overall, while there may have been some steps that Lincoln could have taken to try to protect himself, it is likely that the assassination attempt at Ford Theater was largely beyond his control.

But what if Abraham Lincoln knew kung fu?
Chapter 2
The Night

Abraham Lincoln was a tall, strong man with a broad chest and powerful arms. He had been trained in the martial arts from a young age, and was an expert in the art of Kung Fu. He was known for his quick reflexes and lightning-fast kicks, which made him a formidable opponent in any fight, and one hell of a President.

On the night of the big performance of Our American Cousin at the Ford Theater, Abe was in the audience, watching the show with his friends and loved ones. As he was enjoyed the play, he noticed that an actor named John Wilkes Booth seemed to be acting strange. Not bad or anything. He was totally nailing all of his lines. But John was fidgeting and glancing around nervously, and Abe couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

Suddenly, in the middle of the performance, John pulled out a gun. To the best of Lincoln’s recollection, there were no guns in Our American Cousin. Booth shouted with strength and conviction, “Sic Semper Tyrannis” and pointed his lethal firearm at the president, who was sitting in the front row. Before the audience could even react, Abe sprang into action, flying towards the stage. With a powerful roundhouse kick, he knocked the gun out of John's hand, sending it flying across the stage.

John was stunned by the sudden attack, and before he had a chance to recover, Abraham Lincoln descended upon him. With a series of quick and powerful kicks, Abe annihilated John, knocking him to the ground. The audience watched in awe as the president easily overpowered the would-be assassin, leaving him bruised and beaten on the floor.

After the fight was over, the audience erupted into cheers and applause, excited for their incredible president. Lincoln leaned down, grabbed Booth, and slung him over his shoulder to carry him out. “Next time, stick to the script.” Lincoln delivered with a light chuckle.


Chapter 3
The Interrogation of John Wilkes Booth

It was a dark and dingy cell deep within the bowels of the Old Capitol Prison. Abraham Lincoln sat across from John Wilkes Booth, his eyes boring into the actor's soul. Booth sat sullen and silent, refusing to meet Lincoln's gaze.

"You know why you're here, Booth," Lincoln said, his voice stern and unforgiving. "You tried to kill me, and now you're going to pay for your crimes. But before you do, I want to know who your accomplices were. I want names, Booth. I want to know who helped you in your plot to assassinate me, Abraham Lincoln, the president of the United States."

Booth sneered at Lincoln, his eyes flashing with hatred. "I'll never tell you anything, Lincoln," he spat. "You may have defeated me, but you'll never break me. I'll take my secrets to the grave."

Lincoln leaned forward, his face inches from Booth's. "You think you're tough, Booth?" he growled. "You think you can withstand anything I throw at you? Well, let me tell you something, Booth. I've seen things in the Civil War that would make your skin crawl. I've looked into the eyes of men who have killed and maimed and tortured, and I've seen the darkness that lurks within their souls. And I promise you, Booth, if you don't start talking, I'll make you regret the day you ever crossed me."

Booth's bravado faltered, and for the first time, he looked afraid. He could see the determination in Lincoln's eyes, and he knew that the president was not bluffing. He hesitated for a moment, then finally broke.

"Alright, alright," he said, his voice trembling. "I'll tell you what you want to know. But you have to promise me one thing, Lincoln. You have to promise me that you'll let me go if I cooperate."

Lincoln leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on Booth. "I can't make any promises, Booth," he said. "You tried to kill the president of the United States. But I'll tell you what. If you give me the names of your accomplices and tell me everything you know about your plot, I'll make sure that you're treated fairly and given an honest trial. That's the best I can do."

Booth considered his options for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright, Lincoln," he said. "You have a deal. I'll tell you everything you want to know." And with that, he began to spill the secrets of his conspiracy, revealing the names of his accomplices, Lewis Powell, George Atzerodt, David Herold, and John Surratt. He told Lincoln about their timeline, their habits, and every bit of the failed plot.

Lincoln leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on Booth. "I'm sorry, Booth," he said, his voice cold and calculated. "You see, I've never really been one to keep my word. And when it comes to traitors like you, I believe in making an example. So I'm afraid that I'm going to have to send you straight to hell, where you belong."

Booth's eyes widened in shock and fear, “But… but they call you Honest Abe!” Lincoln grinned, “Don’t mistake honesty for compassion.” Abraham Lincoln stood up and delivered an axe kick to Booth’s face, throwing the traitor to the ground. Lincoln recovered and signaled to the guards outside the cell, who rushed in and dragged Booth away, kicking and screaming.

As Booth was taken away to face his fate, Lincoln sat back down in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. He had sent another traitor to his just rewards, and he knew that his actions would serve as a warning to any who would dare to challenge the authority of the president of the United States. A warning he was getting ready to deliver to five other enemies of the state.


Chapter 4
Lewis Powell meets Lewis Paine

Lewis Powell was a scared man, and with good reason. He had just failed in his mission to kill the secretary of state, and now he was on the run, hiding out in a barn in the middle of nowhere. He knew that he had made a terrible mistake, and that he would pay the price for his failure.

As he sat huddled in the corner of the barn, he couldn't help but think back to the events that had led him to this point. It had all started a few months ago, when he had been approached by Booth, an infamous actor and Confederate sympathizer. Booth had offered Lewis a chance to become a hero, to strike a blow against the hated Union and their tyrannical leader, Abraham Lincoln.

Lewis had been hesitant at first, having put the Confederacy behind him, but Booth had convinced him that it was the right thing to do with a moving, well performed speech. He had also promised Lewis a handsome reward for his service which sweetened the deal, and he had assured him that the plan was foolproof. All Lewis had to do was sneak into the secretary of state's home to deliver a bullet to his head, and the rest of the plot would take care of itself.

But things had not gone as planned. Lewis had made his way into the secretary of state's home, but before he could carry out his mission, he had been confronted by Secretary William Henry Seward at the front door. Little did Lewis know that Seward had the ability to see five minutes into the future, and had foreseen Lewis’ arrival. Lewis had also made another dire mistake – he didn’t realize that Seward was also a master of martial arts, trained by Lincoln. Seward performed a magnificent Crescent Kick, sending the gun flying out of Lewis’ freshly broken hand. Lewis, rightfully terrified of this upset, turned and ran with a strength he’d never known before.

Now, hours later, huddled by a small lantern on its last light, Lewis Powell shook. The chattering of his bones did not come from the cold, nor the pain of his obliterated wrist, but fear. He knew what was coming. He just didn’t know when.

The when came shockingly fast. He could hear the sound of footsteps outside. He tensed, readying himself for another fight, but to his surprise, he saw a tall, strong man with a chiseled jaw and piercing eyes enter the barn.

"Who are you?" Lewis asked, his voice trembling with fear.

"I am Abraham Lincoln," the man replied, his voice calm and confident. "And I've come to settle the score with you, Lewis. You see, I am the President of the United States, and a master of martial arts, and I will not rest until I have punished you for your crimes. Personally."

Lewis tried to stand and defend himself, but his broken wrist was useless. Abraham Lincoln easily overpowered him, pummeling him with a flurry of powerful punches and kicks. Lewis tried to fight back, but embarassed himself and fell on a pile of manuer. he was no match for Abraham's skill and strength.

Lewis lay on the ground, defeated, as Abraham stood over him, victorious. "You should have thought twice before messing with the president of the United States," Abraham said, his voice cold and unforgiving. And with that, he turned and began to exit the barn.

Lewis, in a moment of blind confidence and renewed Confederate pride, shouted at the top of his lungs, “The South shall rise again!” Lincoln smiled, turned around, and delivered a powerful Front Thrust Kick to one of the support beams of the barn. It quickly toppled, crushing everything inside. “The Confederacy needs to work on its foundation, first.”


Chapter 5 
George Atzerodt should have stayed in bed

Abraham Lincoln sat in a dimly-lit bar, enjoying a tall dark beer out of his top hat, trying to clear his mind after a long and difficult day. The bar was a popular spot for Confederate sympathizers, and he knew who he could expect to find here tonight.

After a couple of filled hats, he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Hey, Abe," the voice said, "mind if I join you?"

Lincoln turned to see George Atzerodt, one of the conspirators in the assassination plot, standing behind him. Atzerodt had been tasked with killing Vice President Andrew Johnson, but had lost his nerve before he even got out of bed that morning. He looked nervous and uneasy, and Lincoln could tell that he had something on his mind.

"Sure, George," Lincoln said, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "Have a seat. I'm not much for company tonight, but I suppose I can make an exception."

Atzerodt sat down and ordered a drink, his hands shaking as he held his glass. "I'm sorry, Abe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for what happened last night. I didn't mean for it to go down like that."

Lincoln looked at Atzerodt, his eyes hard and unforgiving. "You didn't mean for it to go down like that?" he repeated, his voice cold and angry. "You didn't mean to try to assassinate the president of the United States? You didn't mean to join forces with that madman Booth and plot to kill me?"

Atzerodt flinched at Lincoln's words, and he looked down at his drink, unable to meet the president's gaze. "I was just getting caught up in the hype, Abe," he said, his voice pleading. "I was just doing what I was told to do. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

Lincoln stared at Atzerodt for a moment, his anger slowly giving way to pity. He knew that Atzerodt was just a pawn in Booth's game, and he couldn't bring himself to hate him. "I understand, George," he said, his voice softening. "I understand that you were just doing what you thought was right. I often find myself making hard choices. Issuing the Emancipation Proclamation was one of the most controversial and risky political moves of my career. It would have been easier to just let people suffer. But sometimes you have to stand up and do what’s right.” Lincoln took a long, deep drink from his hat.

“Today you did what you thought was right. You stayed home. You didn’t try to overthrow our great nation. That’s something that I can commend you for.”

George’s nerves began to relax. A great wave of calm came over him. Atzerodt looked up at Lincoln, relief flooding his face. "Thank you, Abe," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for understanding. I promise, I'll never do anything like this again."

Lincoln put down his glass and put a hand on Atzerodt’s shoulder. "George, you made the right choice by staying in bed that day. You may have saved yourself from a world of trouble." Lincoln nodded, and George began to smile.

“But you weren’t saved from my wrath.” Lincoln’s hand, which had been resting gently on Atzerodt's shoulder, suddenly tightened into a vice-like grip. And with a sudden burst of kung fu strength, Lincoln slammed Atzerodt's face into the bar in front of them, shattering the wood into splinters. Then, with the President’s left arm, delivered a powerful uppercut that sent Atzerodt flying upwards into the air and onto his back.

After the finishing blow, Lincoln returned to his chair, finished his beer, and doffed his cap. “This one’s on him, barkeep.”


Chapter 6
David Herold’s Pharmacy of Mistakes

David Herold walked into the pharmacy, his heart pounding with fear and excitement. He had been working there for several months now, and he had grown to love the hustle and bustle of the busy shop. But his energy today was tinged with anxiety and secrecy.

As he walked up to the counter, he saw Mr. Brown, the owner of the pharmacy, standing behind it, counting out pills into small plastic containers. "Good morning, David," Mr. Brown said, smiling at him. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, sir," David replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just here to start my shift."

"Well, we've got plenty of work to do," Mr. Brown said, handing him a stack of containers. "You can start by filling these prescriptions for me. And be careful, David. We don't want any mistakes."

David nodded and took the containers, trying to hide his nervousness. He walked over to the shelves of medications, his mind racing with thoughts of what happened two nights ago. He knew that he had a crucial role to play in the assassination plot, and that things had gone awry. Booth’s failure to kill Lincoln and Powell’s failure to kill the secretary of state were misfires in an opening salvo to tear down the Union, but he intended to finish this fight.

As he worked, he kept glancing around the shop, making sure that no one was watching him too closely. He knew that he had to be careful, that one slip-up could ruin everything. He had held his cards close to his chest, and had not yet been discovered as a co-conspirator.

Debby called to David from the front desk, “Hey David, I need to go get lunch, can you help this gentleman?” David scoffed, knowing that the front desk was no job for an assistant pharmacist, but acquiesced to Mary’s request. He parted the curtain that separated the two rooms, “What is it that I can get for you today, sir?”

A tall, impossibly handsome man was back lit by the bright sun shining through the windows. He only said one word. “Justice.”

David’s face dropped as he recognized the sillhouette of the nation’s great president, but not fast enough to avoid the explosive punch that tore through the medicine desk, sending David Herold flying backwards into the glass filled cabinet.

“Pharmacists like you make me sick.” Lincoln whispered, just before spitting on Herold’s shoe. “Profiting off of those who need help while you hide in the shadows plotting against them. When I’m done here?” Lincoln tossed a two cent piece to pay for the damages. “I’m going to make health care free for all.”


Chapter 7
John Surratt’s Dastardly Plan
A month had passed since the assassination attempt on Abraham Lincoln. The United States had never felt more united, and the surviving president worked with his passionate vice president to ensure equal rights for people of color. The American people rallied behind their powerful kung fu president, celebrating not only his survival, but their lives as well.

In a small cathedral in Montreal however, a new plan was hatching. John Surratt sat in a dark corner of the cathedral, his heart pounding with fear and excitement. He had been on the run for months now, ever since the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln had failed. But he was not deterred. He was determined to finish what he had started, and he was not going to let anything stand in his way.

As he sat there, hidden in the shadows, he plotted his next move. He knew that he had to be careful, that the Union authorities were still looking for him. But he also knew that he had allies, fellow Confederate sympathizers who were ready and willing to help him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately-crafted pistol. It was a beautiful weapon, and it had been given to him by one of his allies, a skilled craftsman who had made it especially for him. Surratt smiled to himself as he examined the gun, knowing that it would soon be put to good use.

John set the pistol down on his desk and picked up a quill. As he sat at his desk, writing in his diary, he outlined his devious plan to kill the President. He would need to be careful and precise, and he would have to wait for the right moment to strike.

But as he wrote, he was suddenly startled by a noise behind him. He turned to see President Lincoln standing in the doorway, looking at him with a cold and determined expression.

"Mr. Surratt, I believe you have been planning to kill me," the President said in a calm and steady voice.

John Surratt was shocked and terrified. How had the President found out about his plan? How had he managed to sneak up on him like this? In a cathedral in Canada!

But the President was’t finished. "I have been aware of your activities for some time now, Mr. Surratt, and I have taken the necessary precautions to ensure that your plan will not succeed. You see, I am not an easy man to kill, and I will not allow the enemies of this country to succeed in their wicked schemes."

In a hurry, Surratt grabbed his beloved pistol, took aim, and fired at the president. But to his surprise, the bullet missed its mark. Lincoln was unscathed, and he stared down Surratt, his eyes blazing with anger.

Without hesitation, Lincoln sprang into action. He blasted with Surratt with a flying front kick, sending him to the ground. Despite Surratt's cunning, determination, and month of hiding, he was no match for the powerful and skilled president. In a matter of moments, Lincoln had overpowered him, and he stood victorious, his fists clenched in anger.

"You thought you could defeat me, John?" Lincoln growled, his voice low and menacing. "You thought you could kill the president of the United States? You're a fool, John. And now, you'll pay for your crimes."

Lincoln threw one leg back, squatted down, and began to power up. He pulled both hands to his side, clenched them into fists, before throwing them forward, along with his built up power. A rush of white light came from the President, blasting John Surratt’s abdomen with such ferocity that it destroyed his shirt and left him scarred. The President turned away from Surratt, who in his last moments of consciousness swore that he could see a swirl of red, white, and blue on the president’s back.


Chapter 8
Neverending Peace

President Abraham Lincoln stood at the podium, looking out at the assembled crowd. He had survived an assassination attempt, and he had been reelected to a second term in office. Now, as he stood at the end of his presidency, he was determined to deliver a speech that would leave a lasting impact on the country.

"My fellow Americans," he began, "I stand before you today as a man who has lived through some of the darkest moments in our country's history. I have seen war and violence, and I have seen the terrible effects that they can have on our nation. But I have also seen the resilience and strength of the American people, and I am proud to say that we have come through these difficult times stronger and more united than ever before."

The President paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "When I first took office, our country was divided. North and South were at odds, and many people feared that our union would be torn apart. But through hard work and determination, we have managed to heal the wounds of the past and bring our nation together once again. We have abolished slavery and ensured that all people, regardless of their race, are treated equally under the law. We have worked to build a better future for our country, and I am proud of the progress that we have made."

The crowd erupted into applause, and the President smiled. "But our work is not done," he continued. "We must continue to fight for justice and equality for all Americans. We must ensure that everyone has access to fair and healthy living wages, and we must work together to create a society where everyone has the opportunity to succeed. We must never stop striving for a better future for our country, and we must never give up on our dreams."

The President paused again, looking out at the crowd with a sense of pride and determination. "Together, we can build a brighter future for our country. We can overcome any obstacle and achieve any goal. And with hard work, determination, and a commitment to justice and equality, we can create a better tomorrow for all Americans." The President, calm and proud of his legacy, was interrupted by a collective gasp from the audience.

John Wilkes Booth stepped onto the stage, his eyes glowing with a fierce determination. He had once been a human, but now he was a mechanized robot, a deadly machine programmed to carry out a sinister mission. To finish what he had started four years earlier. Booth knew that this was his chance to strike, and he raised his arm, aiming a powerful laser at the President.

But before he could fire, President Lincoln suddenly turned to face him. With a fierce look in his eyes, the President raised his hand and fired a blast of energy at Booth. The robot was caught off guard, and the blast hit him square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

The crowd gasped in shock as Booth lay on the stage, his mechanical body sparking and smoking. President Lincoln walked over to him, standing over the defeated robot.

"You should have known better than to try and kill me," the President said, his voice cold and hard. "I am not an easy man to kill, and I will not allow the enemies of this country to succeed in their wicked schemes."

With that, President Lincoln turned and walked away, leaving Booth lying on the stage, his once-deadly mission now a failure. The crowd erupted into applause, grateful that their President was safe and that the threat had been neutralized.

Back stage, Lincoln passed his successor. Lincoln grinned and turned to the man who would be the 17th President of the United States. 

“You’ve got some big shoes to fill. And an even bigger hat.”

The End.