"Alright, Abe," you say, "let's do this." You hang up the phone and get dressed in your best breastplate and greaves. Spectators will be filling the seats to see tonight's battle, and you aim to entertain.
Honest Abe meets you in the middle of the arena at dusk with his bare rippling muscles silhouetted by the sun. The announcer gives the signal to begin and the two of you rush in with matching roars. Despite being born at the turn of the 19th century, Lincoln is strong and agile, and you quickly find yourself loosing ground. You fight back, landing some superficial blows, but your opponent is a juggernaut. With a final harsh blow, he turns your attack and sends your sword spiralling from your hand. You try to gapple, but Abe stops you with a foot and a half of cold steel threaded between your ribs.