Original Heroes’ League. Unknown Section of Rain Forest, Brazil, October 1959:
Dr. Madness’ War Machine lay in pieces in the clearing in front of the cave.
It had been massive. Longer than 300 feet and taller than 50 feet near the back, where the conning tower had risen above the hull, it gave the middle finger to aerodynamic design in more than one sense.
Made of two sections and connected in the middle by a joint that allowed it to bend, the hulls also included long treads on either side. Small extendable wings jutted out on both sides, sowhat worse for wear.
When Joe had to describe it later (and he did), he’d described it as a submarine that wanted to be a tank and a rocket. The jets attached to the wings had allowed the “war machine” to fly like a fighter jet, hover like a helicopter, and reconfigured to push the entire, ungainly device through the water.
He intended to take them apart and analyze the remains. The team had already given him a head start on dismbering the vehicle. Hopefully, the burning parts weren’t burning hot enough to obscure what he needed to know.
As he stared at one of the jet engines where it lay next to a piece of wing, John Kowalski, alias Captain Commando and wearing the red, white, and blue costu his identity demanded, threw an experintal plasma rifle over his shoulder and said, “I like it better burning than I did riding inside. Good job tracking the damn thing down.”
Joe shrugged, wondering if it was visible through his armor, “The trackers worked. I want to build them into sothing better, but it’s a good first step.”
“Hey,” John said, pointing at the front of the war machine, “you know what you should steal? The design for the chairs in that thing. Dr. Madness held captive in there for 12 hours. Except for bathroom breaks, I was stuck in the chair the entire ti. I never felt uncomfortable. They’re the best fucking chairs I’ve ever sat in. You need to put them in the next version of the jet.”
“I can’t make any promises,” Joe said, looking over the shattered ss. None of the remaining pieces was larger than ten feet. Many of them appeared to have been torn from one another. They had been. He’d seen Reggie do it. The ones that hadn’t been torn had been punched through.
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Reg or “C” stepped out from behind one of the larger sections, walking up to the two of them and giving them a nod, saying, “I don’t think any of them got away.”
He waved toward the unconscious n on the ground. “Even he’s still here.”
Dr. Madness lay next to the rest of his n. Where the rest wore blue shirts and slacks reminiscent of naval uniforms, Dr. Madness wore a shiny suit of ever-changing rainbow colors. His cylindrical gun for releasing “madness gas” had been broken in the fight, but canisters of gas still hung on his belt.
“Better than the last ti,” John said, frowning. “That damn vampire has the book.”
Reg laughed, “Still sore about that? He’s got the book, but we found the cave, and Gunther said the portal’s inside. However smart the vampire thinks he is, we’re smarter. He’s not here.”
John gave the clearing a long, slow look. “Maybe, but maybe we should go check how the inside team did. If the vampire and his people are anywhere, they won’t be out here.”
The sun beat down from the sky, warming Joe’s armor and reminding him that he needed to co up with a better cooling system. He could faint out here. He aid his hand at the cave. “You’ve got a point. The cave’s that way.”
It wasn’t as if there was any confusion about it. A massive formation of earth and rock rose out of the jungle. Where the cave opened, if you looked at it right, it appeared to be the mouth of a skull.
Reg shook his head, “There must be caves all over the world. How long do you think Dr. Madness searched before he found one with a skull?”
Joe looked it up and down, “He might have lucked into it.”
Less than a minute later, they were inside. If there had ever been vampires, they weren’t there anymore. Instead, the place held all the hallmarks of one of Dr. Madness’ hideouts—lots of pipes, gas canisters all over, and enough test tubes and beakers to supply a vast number of high school chemistry labs. The substances that filled the beakers wouldn’t have been welco in any high school.
This lab had additional elents—spare parts for the “war machine,” but not enough to fix it now. In addition to tal sheeting, rolls of cables, and boxes of tools, it also had a silver and black disc about ten feet wide.
Unconscious henchn lay all around the place. The only conscious people in the room were clustered around a glowing circle in the air. They were Giles, alias Red Lightning (who wore a red suit with a lightning bolt on it), Romy, alias Ghostwoman (in white), Chuck, alias Night Wolf (in a black suit with a wolf logo), and Isaac, the ntalist, who wore a mask along with a tuxedo and top hat reminiscent of a magician.
Gunther stood several feet away from them. Tall, and blond, he wore beige khakis, a button-down shirt, and a rifle. Two short swords hung on his belt. “Took you long enough. Are you ready to go in? As I told you, you’ll have to go in yourselves. I’ll be out here guarding because I’m already inside, and it can’t contain two of . Just so tiy-wiy BS. The that’s already in there can tell you more if you care.”
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