Post by DocQuantum on Dec 31, 2023 10:05:27 GMT
Chapter 8: Lost City
Featuring Human Bomb & Elsa Hendrickson!
The roar of the engines echoed in the sky as Elsa Hendrickson piloted her sleek Blackhawk plane toward the rendezvous point at Bermuda. Seated behind the blonde fighter pilot was the Human Bomb, his focused gaze scanning the horizon. The mission ahead was veiled in secrecy, and the tension in the air was palpable.
As they touched down on the secluded runway, Elsa expertly maneuvered the plane to a hidden spot. Waiting for them were Billy Dunn and Bomber Jones, the two men entrusted with guiding them to their mysterious destination. The Blackhawk's engines powered down, and the heroes disembarked.
"Human Bomb, Elsa," greeted Billy Dunn with a nod, a map spread out in his hands. "We've got quite the journey ahead. Bomber and I built a little something special for underwater travel. You might've heard of it."
"I think everyone has by now," said the Human Bomb, grinning beneath his protective mask.
Bomber Jones, a burly man with a penchant for machinery, chimed in, "Yep, got ourselves a submersible plane, the Blue Tracer. (*) Ready to take you straight to the heart of Atlantis."
[(*) Editor's note: See Feature: The Blue Tracer: Blue Traces.]
The group boarded the Blue Tracer, a marvel of engineering designed to navigate both the blue skies and the ocean's depths. Inside, the hum of the engines filled the cabin as the heroes settled in. The anticipation of what lay ahead crackled in the air.
"So, what's the story with this lost city?" inquired Elsa, her eyes fixed on the ocean's expanse beyond the subplane's windows. "Nobody's told us anything about it, isn't that right, Lincoln?"
Roy Lincoln, the Human Bomb, nodded his head. "Other than the fact that the Nazi Red Torpedo is after some Trident, the brass has kept it all pretty hush-hush."
"Well, there's a reason for that," replied Bomber Jones.
Billy Dunn leaned in, his voice lowered as if sharing a well-guarded secret. "At the beginning of World War II, explorer Perry Scott stumbled upon an Atlantean city hidden at the bottom of a volcano crater. (*) The bigwigs kept it classified since then to keep the Germans in the dark. Too much of a risk that they might find ancient technology, as remote a possibility as that might be. But somehow, they've caught wind of it now, after all these years."
[(*) Editor's note: See Perry Scott: Times Past, 1940: Gold of Atlantis.]
The Human Bomb furrowed his brow. "And they think this Trident of Neptune is there?"
Bomber nodded solemnly. "Seems like it. If they get their hands on that relic, who knows what they could do?"
The Blue Tracer soon descended into the ocean depths, navigating the unseen currents toward the volcanic isle of Timbolo at the center of the Sargasso Sea. The journey was tense, the weight of the impending confrontation with the Nazis hanging over them.
Nearing the isle, the Blue Tracer rose out of the water and took to the air. Above the wide, flat crater were yellowish mists that obscured the view from the skies above it. Upon reaching the edge of the crater, a sense of foreboding gripped the heroes. The expected armed guards at the military post were nowhere to be found. The atmosphere within the Blue Tracer grew hushed.
"Those Nazi bastards beat us here," murmured Elsa, her no-nonsense blue eyes meeting the determined gaze of the Human Bomb.
"There's a tunnel to the crater's interior some four thousand feet below the ocean surface," said Billy. "That's the route we're taking."
"Why not just drop through the crater?" asked Roy.
"The direct route?" said Bomber. "Not a good idea. That yellow mist you see above the crater is corrosive -- pure hell on the motor. We might end up dropping like a rock. Besides, they're expecting us to arrive that way. I sure as hell don't wanna be more of a sitting duck than we're gonna be already. Do you?"
Human Bomb shook his head silently in response.
As the subplane glided deep into the underwater abyss, a tense silence settled within the cabin, broken only by the sounds of the ocean.
"Get ready," said Billy Dunn, his tone resolute. "There's a strong current in that tunnel, and it'll bring us into a lake in the middle of the city without much in the way of cover. From that point on we've got Nazis to deal with, and who knows what else down there."
The heroes exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions steeled for the challenges that lay ahead as the Blue Tracer ventured deeper toward the entrance into Atlantis, now threatened by the ominous presence of the enemy.
***
In the heart of the sunken Atlantean city, darkness clung to the ancient whitewashed ruins like a shroud. The Red Torpedo, leader of the SS Ubermenschen, paced amidst the remains, his presence an ominous shadow against the silent abyss.
His eyes gleamed with malevolence as he surveyed the crumbling white structures, his gaze fixated on a concealed chamber rumored to house the elusive Trident of Neptune. This secret location, kept hidden thanks to the lack of imagination on the part of American archeologists during World War II, now beckoned the Nazi operative with promises of untold power.
Red Torpedo approached an invaluable ancient artifact that stood as the only obstacle to his quest, a royal throne that dated back over 10,000 years. Its sheer archeological value had, in truth, prevented archeologists from attempting to dig beneath it, lest it be accidentally damaged. With a disdainful sneer, he raised a sledgehammer in his hand and, in a single, calculated motion, smashed the throne to pieces.
The echo of destruction resonated through the silent city as shards of the ancient relic scattered across the floor. The act was a sacrilege against history, but Red Torpedo cared not for the artifacts of a bygone era. He had a singular focus -- the Trident of Neptune.
"Now, my comrades!" Red Torpedo barked to his men, all clad in ominous black uniforms. "Commence the excavation. We must find the Trident before our enemies arrive."
His subordinates, armed with specialized equipment, descended upon the shattered remnants of the throne, their movements swift and efficient. Power tools drilled the ancient stones as they feverishly worked to uncover the potential hiding place of the coveted artifact.
Amidst the orchestrated chaos, Red Torpedo's communique crackled to life. "Sir, we have company. American operatives incoming."
A wicked grin spread across Red Torpedo's face. "Good. Let them come. We will deal with these pests and claim the Trident for the glory of the Third Reich."
As the Nazi forces intensified their excavation efforts, the Atlantean city was about to bear witness to the clash between ancient mysteries and modern malevolence.
***
The Blue Tracer, a feat of engineering brilliance, cruised steadily through the murky depths of the tunnel toward the sunken Atlantean city. Billy Dunn, at the controls, navigated with precision, while Bomber Jones monitored their progress.
"We're almost there," Bomber announced, his eyes fixed on the instruments. "Approaching the tunnel's exit."
In a moment, they were through, and the four within the submersible craft sighed with relief. They had passed through the first hurdle.
Suddenly, a violent jolt rocked the Blue Tracer, jarring the passengers inside. Alarms blared as the craft listed to the side, a cloud of sediment swirling outside.
"What the blazes?" Billy exclaimed, fighting to stabilize their descent.
"We're under attack!" Bomber shouted, his voice laced with urgency.
From the depths, a volley of shots pummeled the Blue Tracer, damaging its hull. They were met with unexpected resistance.
"Red Torpedo's men!" Billy gritted his teeth, his fingers flying over the controls.
Human Bomb and Elsa, donning scuba gear, prepared to exit the compromised vehicle. With practiced ease, they emerged into the swirling currents, their eyes scanning for threats as they swam toward the edge of the lake. Elsa took the lead, while Roy followed.
So much for chivalry, muttered Human Bomb.
Soon the Blackhawk and the Freedom Fighter emerged from the lake beneath an American-built dock. "Stay alert, Lincoln," Elsa cautioned, her hand firmly gripping her pistol.
Human Bomb nodded, his concentration intensifying. "They won't make this easy, that's for sure."
The eerily quiet ruins crackled with tension as Red Torpedo's soldiers surrounded them, their guns trained and ready for the moment the two heroes showed themselves.
Channeling his explosive abilities, Human Bomb sent shockwaves rippling through the lake, disorienting their adversaries.
Elsa, a study in precision and agility, took that moment of distraction to leap into action. Emerging from her hiding spot beneath the dock, she fatally shot three soldiers before she was forced to acrobatically evade return fire. "Dammit! There's not enough cover here," she hissed under her breath.
"We need to reach the city," Human Bomb urged, his voice tinged with urgency as he and Elsa fought off the attackers in their own unique ways. "They're bound to hear these explosions!"
With the soldiers subdued, the heroes pressed forward, their determination unwavering. The ruins of Atlantis loomed ahead, a haunting silhouette kept safe for eons from the ocean's currents.
"Red Torpedo's in there," Elsa stated, her intense gaze fixed on the looming city. "And he's after the Trident."
Human Bomb's jaw tightened. "We can't let him get it. Whatever waits for us in those ruins, we face it together."
***
The murky waters of the lake in the center of Atlantis had become a battleground as Billy Dunn fought off the persistent German soldiers. The clash of gunfire echoed through the ruins. The Blue Tracer, damaged but not defeated, struggled against the unseen currents as it floated just beneath the surface.
Within the craft, Bomber Jones raced to repair the craft as quickly as possible, knowing they would need to be in tip-top shape again before too long if they were ever going to escape from the crater.
Billy's fingers danced over his trigger, each shot a response to the encroaching threat. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air as he skillfully dispatched the assailants, determined to protect their mission. However, amidst the chaos, a stray bullet found its mark, grazing Billy along the temple.
The impact sent Billy sprawling, consciousness slipping away like the retreating tide. Bomber, having patched up the Blue Tracer as much as he could, emerged to fend off the attackers as a one-man defense.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Bomber rushed to Billy's side at the edge of the lake, his gaze sweeping the area for any lingering danger. He knelt beside his fallen comrade, shaking him gently. "Billy, come on, wake up."
Billy stirred, groaning as he struggled to regain awareness. His eyes flickered open, but a delirious haze clouded their usual clarity as he began to mumble incoherently. "B-Black... R-Rog..."
Concern etched across his face, Bomber cried, "Billy, you with me?"
Billy's gaze seemed distant, lost in a hallucination. "Black Roger... he's here, Bomber. Right... right in front o' me."
Bomber furrowed his brow, glancing around the silent expanse. "Billy, there's nobody here. That bullet must've scrambled your brains, pal."
Still in the grip of his delirium, Billy insisted, "No, Bomber, he's real. Black Roger is here... watching."
Unease settled in Bomber's gut as he attempted to make sense of Billy's erratic claims. "Billy, we gotta focus. We're in the middle of something big -- Atlantis and the Trident of Neptune, no less. Can you stand, buddy?"
Billy struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. "Black Roger knows, Bomber. He knows everything."
A troubled expression crossed Bomber's face, torn between the urgency of their mission and concern for his delirious friend. "We've gotta get you some medical help, Billy. The Bomb and Elsa should be back soon."
As if on cue, the hum of the engines reached their ears. The Blue Tracer, battered but resilient, rose above the underwater gloom at the dock. Relief washed over Bomber as he guided Billy toward the awaiting vessel.
As they boarded the subplane, Bomber couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that lingered. The mysteries of Atlantis and the enigmatic Black Roger weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn't shake the sense that their underwater adventure had taken an unexpected turn into uncharted waters.
Featuring Human Bomb & Elsa Hendrickson!
The roar of the engines echoed in the sky as Elsa Hendrickson piloted her sleek Blackhawk plane toward the rendezvous point at Bermuda. Seated behind the blonde fighter pilot was the Human Bomb, his focused gaze scanning the horizon. The mission ahead was veiled in secrecy, and the tension in the air was palpable.
As they touched down on the secluded runway, Elsa expertly maneuvered the plane to a hidden spot. Waiting for them were Billy Dunn and Bomber Jones, the two men entrusted with guiding them to their mysterious destination. The Blackhawk's engines powered down, and the heroes disembarked.
"Human Bomb, Elsa," greeted Billy Dunn with a nod, a map spread out in his hands. "We've got quite the journey ahead. Bomber and I built a little something special for underwater travel. You might've heard of it."
"I think everyone has by now," said the Human Bomb, grinning beneath his protective mask.
Bomber Jones, a burly man with a penchant for machinery, chimed in, "Yep, got ourselves a submersible plane, the Blue Tracer. (*) Ready to take you straight to the heart of Atlantis."
[(*) Editor's note: See Feature: The Blue Tracer: Blue Traces.]
The group boarded the Blue Tracer, a marvel of engineering designed to navigate both the blue skies and the ocean's depths. Inside, the hum of the engines filled the cabin as the heroes settled in. The anticipation of what lay ahead crackled in the air.
"So, what's the story with this lost city?" inquired Elsa, her eyes fixed on the ocean's expanse beyond the subplane's windows. "Nobody's told us anything about it, isn't that right, Lincoln?"
Roy Lincoln, the Human Bomb, nodded his head. "Other than the fact that the Nazi Red Torpedo is after some Trident, the brass has kept it all pretty hush-hush."
"Well, there's a reason for that," replied Bomber Jones.
Billy Dunn leaned in, his voice lowered as if sharing a well-guarded secret. "At the beginning of World War II, explorer Perry Scott stumbled upon an Atlantean city hidden at the bottom of a volcano crater. (*) The bigwigs kept it classified since then to keep the Germans in the dark. Too much of a risk that they might find ancient technology, as remote a possibility as that might be. But somehow, they've caught wind of it now, after all these years."
[(*) Editor's note: See Perry Scott: Times Past, 1940: Gold of Atlantis.]
The Human Bomb furrowed his brow. "And they think this Trident of Neptune is there?"
Bomber nodded solemnly. "Seems like it. If they get their hands on that relic, who knows what they could do?"
The Blue Tracer soon descended into the ocean depths, navigating the unseen currents toward the volcanic isle of Timbolo at the center of the Sargasso Sea. The journey was tense, the weight of the impending confrontation with the Nazis hanging over them.
Nearing the isle, the Blue Tracer rose out of the water and took to the air. Above the wide, flat crater were yellowish mists that obscured the view from the skies above it. Upon reaching the edge of the crater, a sense of foreboding gripped the heroes. The expected armed guards at the military post were nowhere to be found. The atmosphere within the Blue Tracer grew hushed.
"Those Nazi bastards beat us here," murmured Elsa, her no-nonsense blue eyes meeting the determined gaze of the Human Bomb.
"There's a tunnel to the crater's interior some four thousand feet below the ocean surface," said Billy. "That's the route we're taking."
"Why not just drop through the crater?" asked Roy.
"The direct route?" said Bomber. "Not a good idea. That yellow mist you see above the crater is corrosive -- pure hell on the motor. We might end up dropping like a rock. Besides, they're expecting us to arrive that way. I sure as hell don't wanna be more of a sitting duck than we're gonna be already. Do you?"
Human Bomb shook his head silently in response.
As the subplane glided deep into the underwater abyss, a tense silence settled within the cabin, broken only by the sounds of the ocean.
"Get ready," said Billy Dunn, his tone resolute. "There's a strong current in that tunnel, and it'll bring us into a lake in the middle of the city without much in the way of cover. From that point on we've got Nazis to deal with, and who knows what else down there."
The heroes exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions steeled for the challenges that lay ahead as the Blue Tracer ventured deeper toward the entrance into Atlantis, now threatened by the ominous presence of the enemy.
***
In the heart of the sunken Atlantean city, darkness clung to the ancient whitewashed ruins like a shroud. The Red Torpedo, leader of the SS Ubermenschen, paced amidst the remains, his presence an ominous shadow against the silent abyss.
His eyes gleamed with malevolence as he surveyed the crumbling white structures, his gaze fixated on a concealed chamber rumored to house the elusive Trident of Neptune. This secret location, kept hidden thanks to the lack of imagination on the part of American archeologists during World War II, now beckoned the Nazi operative with promises of untold power.
Red Torpedo approached an invaluable ancient artifact that stood as the only obstacle to his quest, a royal throne that dated back over 10,000 years. Its sheer archeological value had, in truth, prevented archeologists from attempting to dig beneath it, lest it be accidentally damaged. With a disdainful sneer, he raised a sledgehammer in his hand and, in a single, calculated motion, smashed the throne to pieces.
The echo of destruction resonated through the silent city as shards of the ancient relic scattered across the floor. The act was a sacrilege against history, but Red Torpedo cared not for the artifacts of a bygone era. He had a singular focus -- the Trident of Neptune.
"Now, my comrades!" Red Torpedo barked to his men, all clad in ominous black uniforms. "Commence the excavation. We must find the Trident before our enemies arrive."
His subordinates, armed with specialized equipment, descended upon the shattered remnants of the throne, their movements swift and efficient. Power tools drilled the ancient stones as they feverishly worked to uncover the potential hiding place of the coveted artifact.
Amidst the orchestrated chaos, Red Torpedo's communique crackled to life. "Sir, we have company. American operatives incoming."
A wicked grin spread across Red Torpedo's face. "Good. Let them come. We will deal with these pests and claim the Trident for the glory of the Third Reich."
As the Nazi forces intensified their excavation efforts, the Atlantean city was about to bear witness to the clash between ancient mysteries and modern malevolence.
***
The Blue Tracer, a feat of engineering brilliance, cruised steadily through the murky depths of the tunnel toward the sunken Atlantean city. Billy Dunn, at the controls, navigated with precision, while Bomber Jones monitored their progress.
"We're almost there," Bomber announced, his eyes fixed on the instruments. "Approaching the tunnel's exit."
In a moment, they were through, and the four within the submersible craft sighed with relief. They had passed through the first hurdle.
Suddenly, a violent jolt rocked the Blue Tracer, jarring the passengers inside. Alarms blared as the craft listed to the side, a cloud of sediment swirling outside.
"What the blazes?" Billy exclaimed, fighting to stabilize their descent.
"We're under attack!" Bomber shouted, his voice laced with urgency.
From the depths, a volley of shots pummeled the Blue Tracer, damaging its hull. They were met with unexpected resistance.
"Red Torpedo's men!" Billy gritted his teeth, his fingers flying over the controls.
Human Bomb and Elsa, donning scuba gear, prepared to exit the compromised vehicle. With practiced ease, they emerged into the swirling currents, their eyes scanning for threats as they swam toward the edge of the lake. Elsa took the lead, while Roy followed.
So much for chivalry, muttered Human Bomb.
Soon the Blackhawk and the Freedom Fighter emerged from the lake beneath an American-built dock. "Stay alert, Lincoln," Elsa cautioned, her hand firmly gripping her pistol.
Human Bomb nodded, his concentration intensifying. "They won't make this easy, that's for sure."
The eerily quiet ruins crackled with tension as Red Torpedo's soldiers surrounded them, their guns trained and ready for the moment the two heroes showed themselves.
Channeling his explosive abilities, Human Bomb sent shockwaves rippling through the lake, disorienting their adversaries.
Elsa, a study in precision and agility, took that moment of distraction to leap into action. Emerging from her hiding spot beneath the dock, she fatally shot three soldiers before she was forced to acrobatically evade return fire. "Dammit! There's not enough cover here," she hissed under her breath.
"We need to reach the city," Human Bomb urged, his voice tinged with urgency as he and Elsa fought off the attackers in their own unique ways. "They're bound to hear these explosions!"
With the soldiers subdued, the heroes pressed forward, their determination unwavering. The ruins of Atlantis loomed ahead, a haunting silhouette kept safe for eons from the ocean's currents.
"Red Torpedo's in there," Elsa stated, her intense gaze fixed on the looming city. "And he's after the Trident."
Human Bomb's jaw tightened. "We can't let him get it. Whatever waits for us in those ruins, we face it together."
***
The murky waters of the lake in the center of Atlantis had become a battleground as Billy Dunn fought off the persistent German soldiers. The clash of gunfire echoed through the ruins. The Blue Tracer, damaged but not defeated, struggled against the unseen currents as it floated just beneath the surface.
Within the craft, Bomber Jones raced to repair the craft as quickly as possible, knowing they would need to be in tip-top shape again before too long if they were ever going to escape from the crater.
Billy's fingers danced over his trigger, each shot a response to the encroaching threat. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air as he skillfully dispatched the assailants, determined to protect their mission. However, amidst the chaos, a stray bullet found its mark, grazing Billy along the temple.
The impact sent Billy sprawling, consciousness slipping away like the retreating tide. Bomber, having patched up the Blue Tracer as much as he could, emerged to fend off the attackers as a one-man defense.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Bomber rushed to Billy's side at the edge of the lake, his gaze sweeping the area for any lingering danger. He knelt beside his fallen comrade, shaking him gently. "Billy, come on, wake up."
Billy stirred, groaning as he struggled to regain awareness. His eyes flickered open, but a delirious haze clouded their usual clarity as he began to mumble incoherently. "B-Black... R-Rog..."
Concern etched across his face, Bomber cried, "Billy, you with me?"
Billy's gaze seemed distant, lost in a hallucination. "Black Roger... he's here, Bomber. Right... right in front o' me."
Bomber furrowed his brow, glancing around the silent expanse. "Billy, there's nobody here. That bullet must've scrambled your brains, pal."
Still in the grip of his delirium, Billy insisted, "No, Bomber, he's real. Black Roger is here... watching."
Unease settled in Bomber's gut as he attempted to make sense of Billy's erratic claims. "Billy, we gotta focus. We're in the middle of something big -- Atlantis and the Trident of Neptune, no less. Can you stand, buddy?"
Billy struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. "Black Roger knows, Bomber. He knows everything."
A troubled expression crossed Bomber's face, torn between the urgency of their mission and concern for his delirious friend. "We've gotta get you some medical help, Billy. The Bomb and Elsa should be back soon."
As if on cue, the hum of the engines reached their ears. The Blue Tracer, battered but resilient, rose above the underwater gloom at the dock. Relief washed over Bomber as he guided Billy toward the awaiting vessel.
As they boarded the subplane, Bomber couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that lingered. The mysteries of Atlantis and the enigmatic Black Roger weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn't shake the sense that their underwater adventure had taken an unexpected turn into uncharted waters.