Hi-
Love the group here, thought I might contribute a story I wrote, along with some poser (Daz3d, actually) renders I did. The villian is statue fetish related, but the story is pretty cheesecake all around, and I was trying for a real 30s/40s WWII pulp feel. I will be finishing it up soon.
Comments (good and bad) appreciated.
Bas
Prologue
April 14th, 1943
Schlossberg Castle, Germany
"Mmmmmmmmm."
"There there, fraulein, just relax."
"I feel so tingly inside- I didn't have that much champagne!”
The buxom blonde girl giggled and gave a slight hiccup. She reclined on a padded table, surrounded by gauges, dials, and other unidentifiable protuberances of the electric equipment lining the room. She had already shed her tan tweed skirt and light blue blouse, and now lay clad in her undergarments. The harsh light of the lab made her milky white bosom seem even paler, as it spilled from over the edges of her pointed underwire bra. Her legs, tinted tan by silk stockings held in place by suspenders and garter belt, made slow passes up and down one another as she savored the feeling of the diaphanous material.
"You promised I could pose for you *upp*." She hiccupped again. "This isn't much of studio, this is your lab, you naughty doctor..." She pointed her finger and poked his chest playfully. Her words were coming slower and more deliberately, but her voice rose higher, as she was becoming more aroused.
Her suave companion glanced briefly at an ornate pocket watch, and then returned it to his pressed white dinner jacket. He ran his finger along his thin mustache for moment, and looked thoughtfully at her. His skin was in marked contrast to the alabaster maiden before him, seemingly burned a light brown, like a sailor who has spent a lifetime on the equatorial oceans.
"Almost time to pose my dear" he chuckled to himself. The chemical additive to his special champagne had almost finished it work, and the young girl was becoming more glassy eyed by the second. It was thanks to the early effects of the hypnotic drug that he had convinced her to lose her inhibitions and enter the lab, and she was now almost totally without will against his commands. The rhythmic rubbing of her legs ceased, and she now lay stretched out on the table, clear blue eyes staring wide at the ceiling, Only her shallow breathing betrayed any evidence of animation in her beautiful form.
"Now my dear, you will pose for me. Your body is like stiff clay in my hands, and you will maintain whatever position I put you in, as if you were turned to stone. Do you understand?"
"Y...es." the reply came in an even monotone.
The man began by removing the rest of her clothing, savoring the feeling as he rolled the silky mesh down her legs, and the elastic spring of her bra as the tightly restrained cleavage burst from its confinement. Her round, almost pure white breasts sat up pertly even in her reclined position. The doctor/sculptor ran his hands lovingly along the soft curves of her lush body, drinking in its shape and form. He admired her fine Nordic features for a moment, and then tested his hypnotic suggestion by raising one of her slim arms off the table. The limb responded sluggishly to his external force, and remained in position when he let go.
"Truly a perfect specimen of Aryan beauty, and deserving of immortality." He said softly to himself.
He then slowly moved her limbs into the position he held in his mind, and all the while wondering about the risk he was taking. He was fairly certain she was just a low level clerk in the Reichministry's armaments division, and would not be missed, not any more than the others. He was a powerful man, both in the Party and as a valuable scientist to the Cause. Even so, he was risking the chance that she was related to someone in a position to sway the Fuhrer's opinion. Not likely, he finally decided. And with the plans he would soon bring forward to the High Command, nobody would be able to touch him, not even that little rat Himmler himself.
He finally settled on a pose with both knees up, legs slightly bent, and elbows resting on the raised knees. The young girls face was cupped in the palms of her hands, and she looked upward with a wistful expression on her lovely countenance. The position did somewhat cover her wonderful chest, but it also added a hint of hidden sexuality, as the soft orbs pressed out from behind her slim arms. Cheesecake, he believed the Amerikaners called it, but suddenly realized he couldn't really make the connection between an artistic style and a rich dairy dessert dish. He shrugged to himself, and pulled on a crisp white lab coat that lay draped across a nearby workbench. Walking to a nearby control panel, he pulled a pair of arc welding goggles off of a large control handle, and placed them over his eyes.
"Now liebchen, you will get your wish. But don't worry; it will be just like going into a long, peaceful sleep."
The handle was yanked down with flourish, and all around the room, electric devices crackled and buzzed to life, with arcs of blue light shooting to and fro between enormous electrodes and Jacob's Ladder filaments. The electric cacophony built into a crescendo of noise and light, until finally the whole lab was awash in a hazy blue glow. With a sharp pull of a second handle, the built up power cascaded into a single globular electrode suspended over the young woman, and discharged into her with a thousands fingers of miniature lightning. The scientist quickly returned the clunky handles to their original positions, and the electric crackling quickly subsided, leaving only the sharp scent of ozone lingering in the static-charged air.
The beautiful maiden sat seemingly unharmed on the table, yet closer examination would reveal a complete stillness, and perhaps a slightly paler cast to her already milky hue. There was also a light sheen to her skin, like that of a piece of wax fruit. The artist padded up to her expectantly, and clasped his hands in barely restrained glee, like a child first sighting the stash under the tree on Christmas morning.
"Oh, yes my dear, how wonderful! Perfectly preserved! You are now a beauty for the ages!"
He ran his hand over her body as before, only this time reveling in the cool, hard, stillness. It was such a contrast to the soft form she had been in moments before. Even her hair was stiff, as if captured between the ticks of a clock, a moment stopped in time forever. Her once supple breasts were now hardened, glassy globes that reflected the lights in a myriad of color. With soft rap, he knocked on the side of her thigh, and was rewarded with a hard clunk.
The vitrification had been complete and total, the electric current suspending her cellular tissue into a glass-like hardness, while simultaneously driving most of the moisture from her now inert cells. The practical upshot of this was that she weighed a fractional amount of what she had before. The sculptor demonstrated this with alacrity as he picked up the still form like a lightweight dummy, and removed her to a tank arrangement, with a shiny brown metallic floor. Moving some more dials and handles, he cocked his head slightly until he was satisfied with the pitch of the hum emanating from the machine. As he twisted the largest dial on the panel, the hum increased to a high pitch whine, until the floor of the tank began to shimmer and roil. As the surface liquefied, the now stiff girl began to slowly sink into the softening liquid metal. Even though the metal was becoming fully fluid, there was no evidence of heat whatsoever, the girl's downward slide increased until she was fully submerged, and nothing was seen except the smoothly shimmering surface of the dark amber liquid.
Another lever pulled, and the figure slowly began to re-emerge from the vat, propelled on a perforated steel platform that seemed impervious to the sticky ochre metal. The girl was not so impervious to the fluid, and now gleamed in a scintillating metallic mahogany. Now that she was completely clear of the tank, the scientist slowly turned the dial to its original position. The humming slowly died away, and as it did, the liquid in the tank hardened into a smooth glossy sheet once again.
"Wunderbar! Wunderbar!", He shouted, and again took the opportunity to run his hands over her now even harder figure, glittering in its dark metallic sheathe. The thin coating added an overall all evenness to the piece, as he now thought of her, and that final transition from still woman to work of art. Now somewhat heavier, he was still able to maneuver the statue onto a dolly, and wheel the inert weight through a large set of oak double doors. The next room was a veritable candyland of nude female statues, all rendered in the same dark-gold metallic coating. There were thin ones, zaftig ones, some captured in beautiful repose, others a stiff attention. Some had looks of dreamy charm, or flashy smiles, while others still had looks of shock, surprise, or even horror as they tried to shield themselves from some unseen danger. He whistled a little Party ditty to himself as he wheeled the statue-girl to an empty pedestal, and again shifted her figure until she lay on her final position, one that she would occupy for eternity, if he had anything to say about.
The sculptor was humming a Wagner overture to himself, and buffing the girl with a red silk scarf pulled from his dress jacket pocket, when a clearing of the throat suddenly alerted him to another presence.
"Ah, Hans", he said, turning to face his enormous, black uniformed man-servant. "I take it our guests have arrived"
The gigantic blond man stood stock still, not seeming to notice the bevy of immortalized feminine pulchritude that surrounded him. "Ja, mein Herr, Minister of Armaments Speer, to see you."
"Well, then, Hans, let us go along, shall we?" He stepped quickly forward, deftly folding his handkerchief and returning it to its place. He stopped and looked back at the newest edition to his gallery. "An excellent addition, don't you think?"
Hans only then let his eyes roam over the new figure, drinking in its still beauty. "Ja, as always, mein Herr!"
"Well, let us go then." He turned and lowered the lights in the display room as they both quickly stepped through the doorway. "After all, never let it be said that the Baron Werner von Bronze is a rude host!"
Chapter One, Blinded...With Science!
One Year Later, Hub City...
The office door pushed open, and a dark-haired, buzz cut head sporting an eye patch poked into the gap.
"Heya doll! Miss me?"
Joan Glendale sat perched on the edge of her oak desk, freshening her makeup in a hand-held compact. Her white pleated skirt had ridden up high on her thighs, just slightly revealing the darker tops of her nylons. All in all, Lt. William Fitch thought to himself, one of the prettiest sights he'd ever laid eye on. If he couldn't fly dive bombers anymore, at least this made up for being chained to a desk at the Office of Naval Research.
"Fresh." the blonde responded, snapping closed her compact. "Anyhow, you were just here two days ago."
"Ah, and it seems like a lifetime to me!" Fitch twirled his white officer's cap in his hands with flourish, and tossed it lightly on to a nearby hat rack. "What do you, say peach? Me and you blow this joint, maybe run off to the mountains for the weekend?"
"Hmmphh. I'd rather run off with the circus. Actually, that would probably be about the same. Besides, you know the Professor wouldn't be able to find his own shoes if I weren't here. And your bosses at the Navy Department wouldn't like that, what with a war on and all."
"Always you with the cold hard facts." he let out a heavy sigh. "You're right though," he perked up, "and I have some great news for Professor Zofti! Is he busy?"
"He's in the lab" she replied, hopping down from her perch. "I'll tell him you're here."
She turned away, and walked briskly over to a doorway. Fitch's gaze traveled slowly up from her trim white heels, past a slim ankle, and up the seam of her gauzy nylons. Her almost impossibly curvy rear end swayed beneath her skirt like a cobra under the influence of a Hindu Swami. Fitch wolf whistled softly to himself, as Joan carried on a conversation with someone on the other side of the door.
Joan turned and put her hands on her hips, with one jauntingly thrust to the side. "OK flyboy- pick your jaw off the floor and come on in, the Professor will see you now."
---
"Ah, Willy, so good to see you again! It has been a while!"
"It was the day before yesterday, Doc."
"Really? Oh dear, I must have lost track of the time again." Dr. Emilio Zofti fumbled with his glasses for a moment, wiping them on a dirty lab rag. The room was strewn with various electric and mechanical components, as if the professor was working on a dozen projects at once. The doctor himself was almost a stereotypical scientist, a small, bald, Italian gentleman, with thick coke-bottle glasses and a bald plate rimmed with shocks of wispy white hair. “I’m sorry to report that I haven’t made any progress on that object you brought me. I still can't understand the energy it is generating."
'That object' was a small blue cylinder that had been found in a sacred Indian cave outside Flagstaff, Arizona. After the item was found to be emitting small amounts of radioactivity by the archeological team that had made the discovery, it was turned over the Navy Department for study. Dr.Zofti was one of the only physicists available not working on the Manhattan Project, whatever that was, as Fitch was out of the loop on that one. What Zofti had discovered was that the cylinder emitted some sort of atomic field of its own, whenever it was exposed to radiation from an outside source. The remarkable thing was that the energy output in the resulting field was much greater than the input, but so far, he was unable to generate enough field for any useful study. He speculated that there was a specific frequency or source of radiation that would fully activate the cylinder, but so far, his attempts at discovering it were stymied.
"I may have the answer to your problems Doc!" Fitch held up a lead box. "Lookee what I found in the basement of the Smithsonian!" He opened the box, and inside a padded compartment, was a cylinder almost identical to the other one, but bright yellow in color.
"The Smithsonian has a basement?"
"Sure, everybody has some place where they stash their junk. I was talking to one of those archeologist Joes who found the first one- he told me that the Indian legends around that mound spoke of an object that fell from the sky, containing two "rods of power". Supposedly, the first guy that found them become the toughest lug in the joint, and went on a rampage against all the tribes in the area. Like supposedly this guy could pick up mountains, change the course of mighty rivers, you know, all that comic book jive. The power only lasted for a certain amount of time each shot, so the Injun Boys snuck one of their squaws in with this guy, who stole the rods and left this guy powerless. Then they were able to beat him up in a regular battle. Any who, the big Chiefs of all the tribes had a pow-wow, and decided that nobody should have that much power; it was too risky if it fell in the wrong hands. So they separated the rods, and gave one each to two trusted braves. These guys were told to ride in opposite directions for many days, hide the rods, and then whack themselves."
"Oh my!"
"Yeah, those were some real hard cases. Just legends and stuff anyway. This thing prolly did fall out of the sky, and it just scared their trousers off, so they buried them keep the thunder gods of their backs or whatever."
"So how did you find it?"
"Well, I figured there was an off chance that it was already found- the Smith has this huge collection of uncatalogable or just weird junk that's been dragged in from time to time."
"In the basement."
"Yeah, the basement. What's with you Doc? You seem a little bothered by this whole basement thing."
"Well, it's just that I've been friends with people over there for years, and they never showed me any basement." he sounded a little hurt.
"I ah.., they didn't actually show it too me, I kinda just let myself in."
"You burgled the Smithsonian Institute?!"
"Easy, easy! Keep it down will ya?" He said in a hushed voice. "It's for a good cause, besides I kinda have blanket permission for that sort of jazz. Listen- the important thing is, I went around with that Geiger counter you gave me, until I found something giving off some juice- and viola! Here it is!"
"Well, I suppose they weren't using it for anything anyway. Where was it found?"
"Here's the card that was attached- 'Found March 10, 1876, Union Pacific Railroad, Hill Valley, California’." His thumb conveniently covered the stamp reading TOP SECRET, ARMY INTEL 9906753.
"I suppose I can take a few readings, before you return it." The doctor eagerly grabbed the box containing the cylinder. He placed into metal tray and then into a heavy piece of equipment that looked like a small refrigerator. "This will shield out the background radiation, so I can get more accurate reading on just the cylinder." Fitch thought he was saying this for his benefit, but then realized the doctor was just talking to himself. "Oh yes, most remarkable, an almost exact match, just oscillating 180 degrees out. I didn't think of that, I was trying to match the sine wave the whole..."
"So, this what you were looking for?" Fitch interrupted, knowing that Zofti would expostulate to himself for an hour.
"Yes, I do believe it is. Bring me the other cylinder; I want to see how they react."
"Uh, doc, I don't really believe all that Indian hooie, but is it safe? I mean, I don't want to end up evaporating Hub City, or getting permanent sunburn."
"Why of course! I have a special setup for moving radioactive isotopes back and forth from one another. We bolt them down, and just turn this crank. If there is too much output, we just crank this way, and move them apart. Very simple."
"OK, if you say so, Doc." Fitch retrieved the box containing the blue cylinder from its safe. Returning to the isotope set up, he went to the far end and placed the cylinder inside a compartment, and then fit his hands into gloves holes in the devices side. "I'll hook up this en- look at this Dr. Z! This little bugger is already excited." Having opened the box lid, the little blue cylinder was letting off a persistent glow. The gold cylinder, 10 feet away, was responding in kind.
"Very good, I never got this much reaction! And look, the level of dangerous radiation is still minimal! They two sources must cancel each other out in some way, most exciting!"
"Yeah, whatever you say. Look, can we do anything with this besides soft decorative lighting?" Fitch finished bolting the cylinder to the mounting at his end and removed his hands from the Waldo gloves. "The Navy Department needs something that can take out Jap carriers- we have plenty of reading light." He unconsciously rubbed his eye patch at the thought of the Imperial Japanese Navy. A piece of anti-aircraft shrapnel had ripped through his cockpit and into his eye at Midway, but that hadn't prevented from punching his bomb right through flight deck of an enemy flattop. It had prevented him from ever regaining flight status, medals and promotions aside.
Zofti completed the operation at his end. "Now we are ready!" The doctor made some adjustments to the instrumentation at the control panel, and began turning the crank that brought the two atomic sources closer together. Almost immediately, the insistent glowing at both ends began to increase. As they slowly inched down the 10 foot track, the instrumentation began responding wildly, with needles and chart pens oscillating in an excited manner. "More than I had hoped for! The power output is increasing in a logarithmic fashion!" He continued to crank, a look of exultation on his face illuminated in the blue and yellow glow emanating from the leaded glass. Inside the booth, the air shimmered between the approaching rods, as if lines of force were attempting to make themselves visible. "I'm getting energy readings I've never seen before! They must utilize mesons somehow- they're the very glue holding matter together!" Lost in the instrument display before him, the professor failed to notice the arcing and rumbling going on in the lab around him.
"That's enough for today, Doc, let's put these doodads back in storage and let 'em cool off." Fitch gave an uneasy glance around the lab, as the wavering force lines became more and more chaotic, and the light from the booth reached an almost intolerable level.
Just then, Joan burst through the doorway. "What are you boys up too? The lights are flickering all down the block, and my typewriter just tried to electrocute- Oh!" The curvy secretary stared in amazement at the wild chaos in the room.
"Stay back, Joan!" Fitch yelled.
"The wheel won't move! I think the track is bent!" The frail professor struggled futilely with the hand operator. Fitch jumped to the wheel, heaved with all his might, and was rewarded with a loud CLANK! as it sheared off in his hands.
"Aww crud." He exclaimed, staring at the now useless operator.
Atom Girl story
Part II
The Golden Age Origin of Atom Girl
Chapter Two
Fitch tossed the useless wheel to the side, and grabbed the wizened doctor by the shoulders. "Come on Doc, get your bacon outa the fire!" He then propelled the old man unceremoniously toward the doorway. "Joan, get the base fire department on the horn, tell 'em to send a truck over." Joan took the somewhat dazed old man by the hand, and led him into the next room.
Looking back into the isotope machine, he realized that the two cylinders had developed a constant, shimmering flux line between them, and were pulling themselves together, to the groaning protest of the test rails. "Now ain't that a hell of a note!" He exclaimed. Grabbing a steel pipe from an articulated light fixture, he ran to the machine and opened up the bolted cover. The rod arced and sparked as he wedged it between the cylinder holders, but it seemed to halt the remorseless drive to reach each other. He was startled by a loud voice in his ear, above the now deafening cacophony of malfunctioning equipment.
"The phones are dead, Billy!" Gale shouted above the din. "Dr. Z says maybe we can..."
That was the last he heard, as a large piece of equipment, ripped loose in the gyrating lines of flux dancing around the lab, slammed into his side and hurled him across the room. Pinned under the heavy equipment, he had a sudden moment of clarity, as if the noise had abated and everything was still. There was Joan, standing by the machine, her white dress translucent from the shimmering light behind her, her arms stretched toward him. He could see the steel rod between the cylinders bowing upwards, and then there was a loud noise, a bright light, and darkness.
----
Joan awoke, lying in the rubble strewn floor of what was once the professor's lab. Sizing up her condition, she decided she felt pretty darn good. "I must be dead then." she said to no one in particular. Sitting up, she realized her white dress was now not much more than tatters hanging from her shoulders, and was about to cover herself in modesty when she saw Lt. Fitch, lying unconscious under one of the doctor's large gizmos. "Billy!" She ran (she thought she ran, but it seemed like she was just *there*). She tested the piece of equipment, decided it wasn't as heavy as it looked, and lifted up on it.
Fitch awoke, sized up his condition, and decided he had just been run over by a Panzer Division. If there was an unbroken bone in there somewhere, it would take a doctor to find it. As his vision swam into focus, he thought he saw angel standing above him, with a curvy figure and some wisps robes billowing around her as an afterthought. "I must be dead then.” he said to the angel.
"I should be so lucky." Joan mocked, and then softened as she realized the seriousness of his condition. "Just hold still, flyboy, I'll get a doctor."
"Uhh Joanie, uhh could you put that big hunk 'o junk down, I don't wanna get accidentally flattened right after escaping one near death experience."
It took the buxom blonde a second to realize that she was still holding the chunk of equipment over her head with one hand, as if she were carrying a pie. "This old thing? Why it's light as a feather!" She twirled it around a little for effect "See?"
"My word!" Dr. Zofti exclaimed, picking his way through the lab, head darting back and forth at the scene of devastation. "My word!" he repeated, staring at Joan. "Miss Glendale, please put down that oscilloscope! It was very expensive!" Catching himself, he repeated his exclamation a third time, softly. "My word."
-- One week later--
Office of Rear Admiral Joseph "Palooka Joe" Bankford, Head of Special Projects, Office of Naval Research
"Fitch, have a seat son." The tubby admiral stared out of the corner window at the bustling DC traffic below.
The young lieutenant hobbled to an overstuffed leather chair, and gave a little sigh as he set his crutches aside and lowered himself into it. He then winced as his arm cast rubbed the chair arm. His pain was soon forgotten as he a spied a box of Cubans on the admiral's desk, and was soon happily chomping and puffing on one of the aromatic cigarillos.
"Have a cigar." the admiral derided, finally turning away from the window.
"Don't mind if I do." Fitch propelled a few smoky rings toward the paneled ceiling.
"General Griffin was just in here. He's trying to lay claim to that Glendale girl. He says that one of the atomic cylinders belonged to them, and that Army Intelligence therefore should have a say in the matter,"
"Hey now, I took that cylinder fair and square! How'd they find me out, anyway?"
"They complained to the Secretary of War, and he came to me, wanting to know who signed into the Smithsonian Special Storage Facility as 'Popeye, the Sailor Man'."
"Too obvious, huh?"
"Fitch! We’re in a tough position here. Griffin wants this Glendale as a sidekick to their Sergeant Freedom, and it was all I could do to put him off. Apparently he already has the War Department on his side. Do you want to turn this one over to them?
"First of all, admiral" Fitch leaned forward in his, chair, and stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray, "Joan is a person, a friend of mine, not some shiny new Packard for the brass to dicker over!"
The admiral softened a little. "Sorry, Fitch, I wasn't looking at it the right way. She is, however, an asset- someone who can end this damn war that much sooner."
"I know, but she couldn't team with that guy in the star-spangled PJs anyway- super soldier or not, her strength is way beyond his, at least when she first powers up anyway."
"How Strong?"
"Well, Dr. Z has her up the Philadelphia Navy Yard, doing deep-knee bends with a battleship turret. Pretty strong"
"Wheewwww." the admiral whistled "What else?"
"Well, she's nigh invulnerable, and can run or fly about 600- way faster than that Limey rocket man outfit- Air Corps and his Air Commandos. Dr Z says she can probably go faster, but she has, ahhh, wardrobe malfunctions at that speed."
"Hmpph, well from what I've heard, that could be pretty distracting to the enemy itself. Still, we need to be a little more family friendly, if want her for war bond drives and whatnot".
"Agreed, although that outfit she came up with doesn't leave much to the imagination. I tried to get her to add a skirt, but she's a bit of a showoff. Dr. Z is working on some material for an outfit that will let her go faster."
The admiral drummed his fingers on the oak desk thoughtfully "What are her limitations?"
"That's the kicker. It seems these atomic rods take about 4 hours to build up a charge, and then they interact with the energy field that she absorbed in the accident, maxing out her powers. As she uses them, the level of strength, speed and agility decay off- the more she uses them, the faster they go down. She can pretty much put out full output for 30 minutes, or last about 8 hours doing minimal activities. Nominally, four- about the same four hours it takes for the cylinders to charge."
"Can we use the cylinders to make any more like her?"
"Doc Z thought of that, but the cylinders won't charge now unless they are near Joan, and then they will only discharge into her. As mentioned, she's giving off her own atomic field now, albeit a very small one, and that is what the cylinders react to. Perhaps if her field was destroyed, they would latch onto someone else, but while she's around, it's just her."
"What're we gonna call her? I was hoping for 'Navy Lass', you know something catchy" the rotund officer snapped his fingers.
"With all due respect sir, that stinks. She wants to call herself ‘Atom Girl'. I like it."
"Well, I suppose it's a little better, and a little more generic." The admiral looked at Fitch thoughtfully. "Do you wish it happened to you instead, Fitch?"
The young man tilted his head back. "Hell, yes." He looked back at the admiral again “Then again, what kind of hero would I make, a scrawny guy with a flattop and an eye patch?"
They both laughed, and lit up another cigar.
Chapter 3
May 22nd, 1944
Schlossberg Castle, Germany
Von Bronze stared past his guest, and took a moment to study the girl next to the fireplace. A wonderfully acquisition, really, she had been a young barmaid, appropriately named Heidi. Her almost snakelike pigtails curved around her as if she were doing a twirl, almost a meter each of bronzed braided loveliness. She was looking backward, over her right shoulder, with arms folded at waist level and heels arched ever so slightly, bringing out the definition of her calf muscles. She had been a favorite of the young Wermacht soldiers at the beer hall, who liked to pat her shapely behind as she was sent off to fetch...
"Werner! Are you even paying attention? The High Command needs a status report on your project, and they want it now." The pug faced colonel's eyes shot daggers as he as he stared down the Baron from his padded chair by the fireplace.
"My apologies, Herr Oberst, I was just admiring the artwork." The dapper aristocrat gave a disarming smile and swirled his brandy snifter. "You were saying."
"You can dispense with the Herr Oberst routine. And we are well aware of your activities in the field of art." The officer put a special emphasis on the last word. "Werner, we have known each other a long time, back to the Great War. I'll be honest, if it was not for your contributions to the Reich's Special Science Projects, you would have been arrested long ago."
"Hmmm, for what may I ask? Giving these beautiful creatures a meaning in their petty existence? Saving them from the horrors of a world at war? For granting them immortality?!" Von Bronze shifted forward in his seat angrily.
"No, how about kidnapping, conspiracy, murde..."
"That's a lie!" Werner bolted upright from his chair “I'm no murderer! None of these girls have been harmed! They could be restored at any...
"Yes, could be, but have you ever done it- restored one?"
"Well, no, but it was easily reversible in the test animals at the University. We had a 100% success rate."
"But they were not coated in metal, or left in a vitrified state for so long."
Werner sat back in his chair and glowered. "You know the ultrasonic metallo-liquifier generates no heat."
"Yes, and it is wonderful for welding U-boat pressure hulls. That is my point, Werner; it is useful to the Fatherland. You are useful to the Fatherland, when you devote your inventions to our purposes, and not to turning the village girls into paperweights!" He gave a wide sweeping gesture to take in Heidi’s metalliczed form. "There is something else you should know." The colonel fingered his collar nervously.
"Oh, you are finished lecturing me now?"
"Yes, Werner, finished, just like the Reich."
Von Bronze gave the colonel a shrewd, half lidded look across steepled fingertips. "Things are not going as well as the propaganda minister would have us believe?"
"No." the military man sighed. "The Stalinists are pushing us back along the entire front. You already know that we are being bombed continuously, the Americans by day and the British by night."
"But we are putting up a good fight, and we still control the continent."
"The Luftwaffe is almost completely destroyed, and the Allies are on the verge of opening a second front in France."
"Well, once we deploy our Rocket Troopers that will change. And my invention will be able to halt any army in its tracks."
"That's just it Werner," the colonel gave an exasperated look "we have been deploying the Rocket Troopers. We didn't want it known publicly until we are assured it was a success. The British Rocket Force has countered our every move. That damned 'Air Corps' as they call him, makes our men look like fools. If their own rocket packs don't detonate on them first. In all, the Fuhrer is very upset at our scientist's inability to develop analogues to the so called allied 'super-humans'. Even the damned Russians have The Iron Bear. If it were not for that artifact Hitler carries around everywhere he goes, they would have just taken him out long ago.*"
Werner stared down into his drink, and said nothing.
"And the other point is even worse. The second front isn't months from now. It's weeks... days. Perhaps as soon as early June."
The baron's eyes shot up in surprise. "But... I won't be ready- I need at lea...”
"WE aren't ready, Werner, none of us! Not the High Command, not Rommel, no one. Christ, Hitler won't even let the generals make decisions anymore." It was the colonels turn to stare disconsolately into his brandy.
The baron stood up resolutely. "I will redouble my efforts, and concentrate solely on my project. It will succeed!"
"Well, it is good you are so sure of yourself. You can start by moving this project to the Fortress research facility." The colonel said with finality.
"But my work, it is here... my art." He mumbled.
"No art, you cannot be distracted. Besides, we cannot take the chance of the Allies discovering your work and bombing this place off the map. The Fortress is carved into a mountainside, and its automated defenses make it invulnerable to any attack, regular or super-human."
Von Bronze looked at the lovely bronzed Heidi longingly, as her rich metallic-brown finish glowed ruddy orange in the dancing firelight. "If that is how it must be. For the Fatherland!" he stood and clicked his heels, throwing a stiff armed fascist salute.
"Yes. For the Fatherland." The colonel only turned slightly, and stared into the fire.
----
Joan sat on a bench in the lab, and crossed her shapely legs. "Look Billy!" Joan rubbed the sides of her thighs. "Satin tights! I got them from one of my old roommates- she's a Rockette now. Just like stockings, but they go all the way up!"
"Hey, pretty snazzy, lady! You might be startin' a new fashion trend! Why'd you add those?" Fitch studied the silky gams appreciatively.
Joan paused for a second. "Well, the costume was..." she rose up, put a hand to his ear, and whispered, "riding up on me."
"Heh. That's a ride I'd take for a nickle-oof! Joan clapped Fitch on the back of the head, and he staggered slightly under the blow.
"Oh! Sorry Billy!" she helped him back to his feet.
"Owww, take it easy, puddin!" He rubbed his neck gingerly. "It's a good thing it's been a few hours, or I woulda ended up a Picasso paintin' on the wall."
Atom Girl looked at her boots sheepishly and then back at Fitch. "Watcha think of the cuffs on the boots and gloves, and the tiara. Do you think the atoms are in the right place?" She pointed inwards at the peaks of her impressive cleavage, where the nucleus of each item seemed to highlight the area of her nipples.
"Yeah, that'll be a real hit with the Ladies Temperance Clubs. Seriously though, everything looks swell! Your definitely gonna be the biggest bombshell on the Western Front. Those Krauts won't know whether to shoot first or ask you out." He beamed.
"Yeah." Joan looked pensive. "Billy, I'm worried. I... I'm not a soldier. What's it like to have someone shooting at you? I know I'm pretty tough now, but they still have some big guns."
"Well Joanie, I'll level with you. Having a few thousand men trying to punch your ticket is no cake walk. But you either realize in that moment what it is you have to do, for yourself and your buddies, or you just lock up. Forget about all that mom, apple pie, and flag stuff. You can think about that before, or when it's all over."
"But I've never killed anybody, either."
"This is a war, and that's what happens." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You have more a little more leeway, with your powers, to just subdue the enemy. But don't forget that every day sooner that this war ends is one less day of dying, for both sides. "
"I don't want to lock up, Billy."
"I know you, doll face." He lifted her chin and looked deep into her blue eyes. "You'll do the right thing."
*The Spear of Destiny
Chapter Two
Fitch tossed the useless wheel to the side, and grabbed the wizened doctor by the shoulders. "Come on Doc, get your bacon outa the fire!" He then propelled the old man unceremoniously toward the doorway. "Joan, get the base fire department on the horn, tell 'em to send a truck over." Joan took the somewhat dazed old man by the hand, and led him into the next room.
Looking back into the isotope machine, he realized that the two cylinders had developed a constant, shimmering flux line between them, and were pulling themselves together, to the groaning protest of the test rails. "Now ain't that a hell of a note!" He exclaimed. Grabbing a steel pipe from an articulated light fixture, he ran to the machine and opened up the bolted cover. The rod arced and sparked as he wedged it between the cylinder holders, but it seemed to halt the remorseless drive to reach each other. He was startled by a loud voice in his ear, above the now deafening cacophony of malfunctioning equipment.
"The phones are dead, Billy!" Gale shouted above the din. "Dr. Z says maybe we can..."
That was the last he heard, as a large piece of equipment, ripped loose in the gyrating lines of flux dancing around the lab, slammed into his side and hurled him across the room. Pinned under the heavy equipment, he had a sudden moment of clarity, as if the noise had abated and everything was still. There was Joan, standing by the machine, her white dress translucent from the shimmering light behind her, her arms stretched toward him. He could see the steel rod between the cylinders bowing upwards, and then there was a loud noise, a bright light, and darkness.
----
Joan awoke, lying in the rubble strewn floor of what was once the professor's lab. Sizing up her condition, she decided she felt pretty darn good. "I must be dead then." she said to no one in particular. Sitting up, she realized her white dress was now not much more than tatters hanging from her shoulders, and was about to cover herself in modesty when she saw Lt. Fitch, lying unconscious under one of the doctor's large gizmos. "Billy!" She ran (she thought she ran, but it seemed like she was just *there*). She tested the piece of equipment, decided it wasn't as heavy as it looked, and lifted up on it.
Fitch awoke, sized up his condition, and decided he had just been run over by a Panzer Division. If there was an unbroken bone in there somewhere, it would take a doctor to find it. As his vision swam into focus, he thought he saw angel standing above him, with a curvy figure and some wisps robes billowing around her as an afterthought. "I must be dead then.” he said to the angel.
"I should be so lucky." Joan mocked, and then softened as she realized the seriousness of his condition. "Just hold still, flyboy, I'll get a doctor."
"Uhh Joanie, uhh could you put that big hunk 'o junk down, I don't wanna get accidentally flattened right after escaping one near death experience."
It took the buxom blonde a second to realize that she was still holding the chunk of equipment over her head with one hand, as if she were carrying a pie. "This old thing? Why it's light as a feather!" She twirled it around a little for effect "See?"
"My word!" Dr. Zofti exclaimed, picking his way through the lab, head darting back and forth at the scene of devastation. "My word!" he repeated, staring at Joan. "Miss Glendale, please put down that oscilloscope! It was very expensive!" Catching himself, he repeated his exclamation a third time, softly. "My word."
-- One week later--
Office of Rear Admiral Joseph "Palooka Joe" Bankford, Head of Special Projects, Office of Naval Research
"Fitch, have a seat son." The tubby admiral stared out of the corner window at the bustling DC traffic below.
The young lieutenant hobbled to an overstuffed leather chair, and gave a little sigh as he set his crutches aside and lowered himself into it. He then winced as his arm cast rubbed the chair arm. His pain was soon forgotten as he a spied a box of Cubans on the admiral's desk, and was soon happily chomping and puffing on one of the aromatic cigarillos.
"Have a cigar." the admiral derided, finally turning away from the window.
"Don't mind if I do." Fitch propelled a few smoky rings toward the paneled ceiling.
"General Griffin was just in here. He's trying to lay claim to that Glendale girl. He says that one of the atomic cylinders belonged to them, and that Army Intelligence therefore should have a say in the matter,"
"Hey now, I took that cylinder fair and square! How'd they find me out, anyway?"
"They complained to the Secretary of War, and he came to me, wanting to know who signed into the Smithsonian Special Storage Facility as 'Popeye, the Sailor Man'."
"Too obvious, huh?"
"Fitch! We’re in a tough position here. Griffin wants this Glendale as a sidekick to their Sergeant Freedom, and it was all I could do to put him off. Apparently he already has the War Department on his side. Do you want to turn this one over to them?
"First of all, admiral" Fitch leaned forward in his, chair, and stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray, "Joan is a person, a friend of mine, not some shiny new Packard for the brass to dicker over!"
The admiral softened a little. "Sorry, Fitch, I wasn't looking at it the right way. She is, however, an asset- someone who can end this damn war that much sooner."
"I know, but she couldn't team with that guy in the star-spangled PJs anyway- super soldier or not, her strength is way beyond his, at least when she first powers up anyway."
"How Strong?"
"Well, Dr. Z has her up the Philadelphia Navy Yard, doing deep-knee bends with a battleship turret. Pretty strong"
"Wheewwww." the admiral whistled "What else?"
"Well, she's nigh invulnerable, and can run or fly about 600- way faster than that Limey rocket man outfit- Air Corps and his Air Commandos. Dr Z says she can probably go faster, but she has, ahhh, wardrobe malfunctions at that speed."
"Hmpph, well from what I've heard, that could be pretty distracting to the enemy itself. Still, we need to be a little more family friendly, if want her for war bond drives and whatnot".
"Agreed, although that outfit she came up with doesn't leave much to the imagination. I tried to get her to add a skirt, but she's a bit of a showoff. Dr. Z is working on some material for an outfit that will let her go faster."
The admiral drummed his fingers on the oak desk thoughtfully "What are her limitations?"
"That's the kicker. It seems these atomic rods take about 4 hours to build up a charge, and then they interact with the energy field that she absorbed in the accident, maxing out her powers. As she uses them, the level of strength, speed and agility decay off- the more she uses them, the faster they go down. She can pretty much put out full output for 30 minutes, or last about 8 hours doing minimal activities. Nominally, four- about the same four hours it takes for the cylinders to charge."
"Can we use the cylinders to make any more like her?"
"Doc Z thought of that, but the cylinders won't charge now unless they are near Joan, and then they will only discharge into her. As mentioned, she's giving off her own atomic field now, albeit a very small one, and that is what the cylinders react to. Perhaps if her field was destroyed, they would latch onto someone else, but while she's around, it's just her."
"What're we gonna call her? I was hoping for 'Navy Lass', you know something catchy" the rotund officer snapped his fingers.
"With all due respect sir, that stinks. She wants to call herself ‘Atom Girl'. I like it."
"Well, I suppose it's a little better, and a little more generic." The admiral looked at Fitch thoughtfully. "Do you wish it happened to you instead, Fitch?"
The young man tilted his head back. "Hell, yes." He looked back at the admiral again “Then again, what kind of hero would I make, a scrawny guy with a flattop and an eye patch?"
They both laughed, and lit up another cigar.
Chapter 3
May 22nd, 1944
Schlossberg Castle, Germany
Von Bronze stared past his guest, and took a moment to study the girl next to the fireplace. A wonderfully acquisition, really, she had been a young barmaid, appropriately named Heidi. Her almost snakelike pigtails curved around her as if she were doing a twirl, almost a meter each of bronzed braided loveliness. She was looking backward, over her right shoulder, with arms folded at waist level and heels arched ever so slightly, bringing out the definition of her calf muscles. She had been a favorite of the young Wermacht soldiers at the beer hall, who liked to pat her shapely behind as she was sent off to fetch...
"Werner! Are you even paying attention? The High Command needs a status report on your project, and they want it now." The pug faced colonel's eyes shot daggers as he as he stared down the Baron from his padded chair by the fireplace.
"My apologies, Herr Oberst, I was just admiring the artwork." The dapper aristocrat gave a disarming smile and swirled his brandy snifter. "You were saying."
"You can dispense with the Herr Oberst routine. And we are well aware of your activities in the field of art." The officer put a special emphasis on the last word. "Werner, we have known each other a long time, back to the Great War. I'll be honest, if it was not for your contributions to the Reich's Special Science Projects, you would have been arrested long ago."
"Hmmm, for what may I ask? Giving these beautiful creatures a meaning in their petty existence? Saving them from the horrors of a world at war? For granting them immortality?!" Von Bronze shifted forward in his seat angrily.
"No, how about kidnapping, conspiracy, murde..."
"That's a lie!" Werner bolted upright from his chair “I'm no murderer! None of these girls have been harmed! They could be restored at any...
"Yes, could be, but have you ever done it- restored one?"
"Well, no, but it was easily reversible in the test animals at the University. We had a 100% success rate."
"But they were not coated in metal, or left in a vitrified state for so long."
Werner sat back in his chair and glowered. "You know the ultrasonic metallo-liquifier generates no heat."
"Yes, and it is wonderful for welding U-boat pressure hulls. That is my point, Werner; it is useful to the Fatherland. You are useful to the Fatherland, when you devote your inventions to our purposes, and not to turning the village girls into paperweights!" He gave a wide sweeping gesture to take in Heidi’s metalliczed form. "There is something else you should know." The colonel fingered his collar nervously.
"Oh, you are finished lecturing me now?"
"Yes, Werner, finished, just like the Reich."
Von Bronze gave the colonel a shrewd, half lidded look across steepled fingertips. "Things are not going as well as the propaganda minister would have us believe?"
"No." the military man sighed. "The Stalinists are pushing us back along the entire front. You already know that we are being bombed continuously, the Americans by day and the British by night."
"But we are putting up a good fight, and we still control the continent."
"The Luftwaffe is almost completely destroyed, and the Allies are on the verge of opening a second front in France."
"Well, once we deploy our Rocket Troopers that will change. And my invention will be able to halt any army in its tracks."
"That's just it Werner," the colonel gave an exasperated look "we have been deploying the Rocket Troopers. We didn't want it known publicly until we are assured it was a success. The British Rocket Force has countered our every move. That damned 'Air Corps' as they call him, makes our men look like fools. If their own rocket packs don't detonate on them first. In all, the Fuhrer is very upset at our scientist's inability to develop analogues to the so called allied 'super-humans'. Even the damned Russians have The Iron Bear. If it were not for that artifact Hitler carries around everywhere he goes, they would have just taken him out long ago.*"
Werner stared down into his drink, and said nothing.
"And the other point is even worse. The second front isn't months from now. It's weeks... days. Perhaps as soon as early June."
The baron's eyes shot up in surprise. "But... I won't be ready- I need at lea...”
"WE aren't ready, Werner, none of us! Not the High Command, not Rommel, no one. Christ, Hitler won't even let the generals make decisions anymore." It was the colonels turn to stare disconsolately into his brandy.
The baron stood up resolutely. "I will redouble my efforts, and concentrate solely on my project. It will succeed!"
"Well, it is good you are so sure of yourself. You can start by moving this project to the Fortress research facility." The colonel said with finality.
"But my work, it is here... my art." He mumbled.
"No art, you cannot be distracted. Besides, we cannot take the chance of the Allies discovering your work and bombing this place off the map. The Fortress is carved into a mountainside, and its automated defenses make it invulnerable to any attack, regular or super-human."
Von Bronze looked at the lovely bronzed Heidi longingly, as her rich metallic-brown finish glowed ruddy orange in the dancing firelight. "If that is how it must be. For the Fatherland!" he stood and clicked his heels, throwing a stiff armed fascist salute.
"Yes. For the Fatherland." The colonel only turned slightly, and stared into the fire.
----
Joan sat on a bench in the lab, and crossed her shapely legs. "Look Billy!" Joan rubbed the sides of her thighs. "Satin tights! I got them from one of my old roommates- she's a Rockette now. Just like stockings, but they go all the way up!"
"Hey, pretty snazzy, lady! You might be startin' a new fashion trend! Why'd you add those?" Fitch studied the silky gams appreciatively.
Joan paused for a second. "Well, the costume was..." she rose up, put a hand to his ear, and whispered, "riding up on me."
"Heh. That's a ride I'd take for a nickle-oof! Joan clapped Fitch on the back of the head, and he staggered slightly under the blow.
"Oh! Sorry Billy!" she helped him back to his feet.
"Owww, take it easy, puddin!" He rubbed his neck gingerly. "It's a good thing it's been a few hours, or I woulda ended up a Picasso paintin' on the wall."
Atom Girl looked at her boots sheepishly and then back at Fitch. "Watcha think of the cuffs on the boots and gloves, and the tiara. Do you think the atoms are in the right place?" She pointed inwards at the peaks of her impressive cleavage, where the nucleus of each item seemed to highlight the area of her nipples.
"Yeah, that'll be a real hit with the Ladies Temperance Clubs. Seriously though, everything looks swell! Your definitely gonna be the biggest bombshell on the Western Front. Those Krauts won't know whether to shoot first or ask you out." He beamed.
"Yeah." Joan looked pensive. "Billy, I'm worried. I... I'm not a soldier. What's it like to have someone shooting at you? I know I'm pretty tough now, but they still have some big guns."
"Well Joanie, I'll level with you. Having a few thousand men trying to punch your ticket is no cake walk. But you either realize in that moment what it is you have to do, for yourself and your buddies, or you just lock up. Forget about all that mom, apple pie, and flag stuff. You can think about that before, or when it's all over."
"But I've never killed anybody, either."
"This is a war, and that's what happens." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You have more a little more leeway, with your powers, to just subdue the enemy. But don't forget that every day sooner that this war ends is one less day of dying, for both sides. "
"I don't want to lock up, Billy."
"I know you, doll face." He lifted her chin and looked deep into her blue eyes. "You'll do the right thing."
*The Spear of Destiny
- Attachments
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Atom Girl, continued
The Field Marshal sat in the staff car and drummed his fingers on leather seat.
"My apologies, Herr Field Marshal, but the starter appears to be broken, and we do not have a spare part available." The young motor pool corporal was visibly nervous addressing the high-ranking officer.
The General sighed and collected his briefing case and field cap.
"I don't suppose there is another car available?" He stepped gingerly out of the low slung black sedan, and onto the rain slicked cobblestones of the chateau's courtyard.
"No sir, the others are either out or already under repair. Again, my apologies." The corporal stood stiffly, trying to avoid eye contact and wishing he could shrink down into his work boots.
"Don't apologize to me!" the officer laughed pleasantly and clapped the young man on his shoulder. "You are going to have to answer to my wife! I guess I'll have just have to spend another dreary day here." He scanned the sky, and saw nothing but grey drizzle and low clouds. "At least with this rotten weather, there's no chance of too much excitement, eh corporal? I had hoped to spend the day with her though; I even bought her some expensive shoes in Paris! It's Mrs. Rommel's birthday you know- tomorrow, the sixth of June."
The Golden Age Origin of Atom Girl!
Chapter Three
Bletchley Park, England
June 5th, 1944
"Whewww." Fitch whistled. "Get a load of these digs, will ya?" The lieutenant poked a thumb at the imposing Victorian edifice. "Hard to believe all the top secret stuff that goes in here." A Royal Marine stood inconspicuously inside the front doorway, doing his best to studiously ignore Fitch's presence. Fitch leaned over the door of the drab army sedan that had brought them out from London. "OK doll, showtime! Let's see what the high mucky-mucks have planned for ya."
Joan slid around in her seat and stuck her legs out of the doorway. Although she had worn a long trench coat over her costume, the front flap folded back to her thighs as she slipped out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. The young Royal Marine suddenly became much more interested in the proceedings, and gave a broad toothy grin at the sight of her of silky, well toned limbs.
"Gosh Billy, isn't it simply exciting? I mean all the cloak and dagger, secret agent stuff." Joan linked an arm into his as they walked up to the guard and handed over their ID cards and papers.
"I guess so. Seems a lot of trouble to go through. We could just have the briefing at regular army HQ, it's not like anyone there is going to blab to the Krauts." The young Marine checked all the papers thoroughly, and waved them into the waiting room. Fitch immediately spied Admiral Bankford and General Griffin in a heated discussion in the corner. He wondered briefly if they were arguing over Atom Girl, until he caught a snippet about an intercepted touchdown pass. He snorted to himself. The two men would argue about whether or not the sky was blue. There were several people in the small anteroom he didn't recognize, and a tall, aristocratic, sandy blond-haired man. Although he had never seen him without his helmet, there weren't too many people who went around in jodhpurs with a rocket strapped to their back. The man noticed them and made a beeline.
"You must be Atom Girl! I've heard very good things about you” He said suavely.
"Charmed, I'm sure." Joan replied, putting her hand forward. The Englishman lifted it, bent, and brushed his lips on her knuckles.
"The pleasure is all mine, rest assured." The man released her hand, but Joan still held it out awkwardly, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
Fitch lit up a Chesterfield and squinted his good eye at the rocket man. "You must be Air Corps, if I may state the obvious. Whatsamatter, they don't have a rocket check girl at this joint?" He poked a finger at the heavy looking contraption.
"Yes, quite right. Lieutenant William Fitch, hero of the Battle of Midway, I presume." Fitch actually looked shocked for the first time Joan had known him, but it quickly passed. "I like to keep my rocket handy; you never know when a...situation might arise. Better safe than sorry."
"I get ya. Feel the same way. 'Be Prepared'- that's my motto." Fitch pointed at himself.
"Billy, that's the Boy Scout motto," Joan grinned at him "and you're no Boy Scout."
"I'm hurt, Joanie." Fitch made a face and covered his heart.
"If I may interrupt the banter" portly Admiral Bankford interjected. "The briefing is about to begin."
Bankford and Griffin walked into the briefing room, followed in a single file by the others. The two flag officers were a study in contrasts- the navy man was short and round, with a crumpled uniform and red cheeks that bespoke of a certain familiarity with the finer things in life. General Griffin was a tall, angular man with a hawk nose, starched uniform, and a reputation as a teetotaler.
The two men, and a British officer who must be their equivalent, stood in front of a wall display with a curtain in front of it. General Griffin began. "I'll get right to the point" He rasped in a gravelly voice. "You all know that the invasion is imminent. I have just received word that we are go for tomorrow at dawn." A hush fell over the room as an aide pulled back the curtain, to reveal a giant blow up map with the words OPERATION OVERLORD at the top. The map featured a section of the French coastline, labeled 'Normandy- Carentan Peninsula'.
Admiral Bankford stepped forward. "We are here to coordinate the activities of the various unorthodox and meta-powered individuals on our side." Fitch looked around in sharply, as he didn't see Sergeant Freedom anywhere in attendance.
Griffin continued the briefing. "Some of your compatriots have been briefed separately, due to the special nature of their missions. Sergeant Freedom, for example, is preparing for an overnight jump into France with the 101st Airborne Division." He stated proudly.
Fitch leaned into Joan, and whispered "Glory hound." into her ear. She responded with an elbow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. The others in the room looked around at them at the low "Ooof" Fitch emitted. Air Corps gave a good-natured chuckle.
"In any case, I'll turn you over to your individual briefer for details of your own missions. Good luck and God be with you."
Fitch had noticed a dusky dark haired girl with ruby red lips, her lithe figure ensconced in a tight black wrap, standing a few feet to his right. He gave her a smile, and she gave a sexy one in return, showing off two rows of bright white teeth that contrasted nicely with her tanned skin. He was thinking of going over and saying something to her when Bankford approached. "Good to see you are paying attention, Fitch."
The lieutenant turned to look at the admiral "Just familiarizing myself with the surroundings, boss." He turned back to look at the girl again, but the space was now empty, with only a hint of darkish fog in the area where she had been standing. "Whewww." He let out his favorite whistle.
Atom Girl stood to the side, and appeared to be attempting to burn a hole through Fitch with her eyes. The young lieutenant hoped she didn't develop a new power all of the sudden.
___
Atom Girl sat on the guest room couch, her knees drawn up to her chest. He arms were wrapped around her bright gold boots, and her chin rested dejectedly on her shapely knees. "They're not going to use me!’Kept in Reserve' Bankford says! What am I going to do, serve coffee to the code room?"
"I'll take mine black." Fitch quipped, and then regretted it. He lit up another smoke and looked at her thoughtfully. "Sorry about that doll, couldn't resist."
Joan continued to stare down at her boot toes, and said nothing.
"You'll get your chance, before you know it. Anyway, being 'in reserve' means they know you are the really big stick- they want you ready in case the shit really hits the proverbially fan- pardon my French."
"You really think so, Billy?" Atom Girl turned her head to look over at him.
"100 percent sure." He was actually only 50% percent sure. He was a little miffed himself, having lobbied to deploy Atom Girl to the Pacific, but Griffin and Bankford had overridden him. He didn't want to come all the way to Europe to warm the bench.
"Well, I guess we'd better rest up, then. Good night, Billy" She unzipped her boots and slipped her feet out. Leaning back, she stretched her long legs out and admired they way the glittered in the low lighting. She wiggled her toes a little.
Billy got up, and walked over to the door, navy cap twirling in one hand, and cigarette dangling from his lips. He turned suddenly at the door frame "You know Joanie, if you need ahh, a little company, I...”
"Good night, Billy." She turned to the door and blew him a kiss.
"Night, doll. See you in the funny papers."
Fitch shut the door, stuck his hands in his pockets, and sauntered down the hall.
Joan lay on the couch, and stared at the ceiling. She really didn't know what to do. She had half considered asking Billy to stay, but the Iowa preacher's daughter part of her thought better of it- she just wasn't that kind of girl. Anyway, she still couldn't figure him out. He seemed to like her, but then again, he treated all pretty girls that way, like that little tart sorceress at the briefing today. She glowered a little as she thought about it. Why did it make her so mad?
__
"..and I'm telling you we have to push them off the beaches within the next few hours, or this war is lost! Why is everyone at High Command so sure this is diversion?! I'm here, and I tell you this is the invasion! Here, now, in Normandy! I'm taking command of the reserve Panzer units myself, if I have to force them at gunpoint! The Fuhrer and his sleeping pills be damned!" Field Marshal Erwin Rommel slammed the telephone receiver into its cradle. He looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering what might have happened had he been visiting with his wife today as he had originally planned. He dismissed the thought: there was no time for idle what-ifs. He turned to his adjutant. "Send the dispatches, all reserve Panzer units to move forward and counterattack with utmost effort. Inform 2nd Panzer to move southwest with all speed possible." Rommel turned to study the wall map, as his staff moved little flags indicating the troops and tanks of the 12th SS Panzer Division closer to the central beachhead. The Americans had landed there, and so far had been having the roughest time moving off the beach, as well as having almost all their armor support founder in the rough surf. "We'll push them back into the Atlantic yet." He said to himself, and smiled.
Chapter 5
Walk Softly, and Carry a Big Stick
"Dammit. Dammit!" Griffin read the decoded intercepts that had been handed to him. He put his forehead into his hands and rubbed his temples vigorously. "Omaha beach is already a shit sandwich, and there are elements of a heavy Panzer Division and supporting Panzergreniadiers moving up. Those guys are the best trained and most experienced unit in Normandy, and have the latest, most advanced heavy tank designs. Rocket boy and his men are tied up at Juno and Gold beaches holding back the panzer reserves up there. Dammit! They were supposed to think this was a diversion, and not release the reserves so early!"
"Apparently, Rommel didn't read the memo." Bankford offered drolly.
"Wise-ass. That overcast is moving back in, limiting the effectiveness of our air power." Griffin sighed. "Is she ready, Bankford? Do you think she can pull this off?"
"Well, Griff," the admiral rolled his cigar around in his mouth. "There's only one way to find out."
---
Atom Girl sat at her small table, and pushed the spoon around in a bowl of soup she wasn't really interested in eating. She had gone ahead and put on her outfit, but it was already after noon and she hadn't heard a word yet. She was herding a pea around the edge of the soup bowl when Fitch burst in.
"Up and at 'em, Atom Girl! You just got activated"
"Really?!" She shot up from her chair. "What's going on?"
"Apparently, things aren't going to well, and you Joanie, are what's going on. Briefing in two minutes."
--
"Stand back everyone!" Fitch ordered. The small crowd of onlookers, military men and scientists, took a step back as Atom Girl removed the two glowing cylinders out of separate pouches in her utility belt.
"Here's mud in your eye." She stated, as she brought the rods together in front of her. There were 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the crowd as a bright blue and yellow flash engulfed the area, and the lines of force shimmered around Atom Girl for a moment, just as they had on that day in the lab.
"OK, A-Girl, Doc Z said that new outfit should be able to withstand a little higher speed- he mixed some carbon and asbestos fibers into a new synthetic- he calls it 'Zoflar' or something. Give it all you got- that tank division has to be stopped. You've got the coordinates, and there's a map in one of your pouches, as well as a miniature radio. I'm going to hit the beach with these army boys as soon as I can, I'll try and contact you from there."
"Be careful Billy." She said, and grabbed his hand.
"Right back at ya, doll."
He took a step back, and Atom Girl knelt down slightly, like a basketball player waiting to catch a rebound. The lines of force began to gather all around her, building up to the point that she was almost hidden in a shimmering curtain of wavy distortion, and then she flexed her legs, leaping upward like a bullet fired from a rifle. She punched through the low overcast and was gone from sight in a second. The crowd was awed even more than before. A few "Wows!" and "Holy Cows!" punctuated the murmur of the group.
"Go get 'em kid." General Griffin growled into the sky.
---
Atom Girl immediately found herself engulfed in a wet grey mist. "Gotta go lower." She thought to herself. She felt more than saw something in front of her, and flew below the grey overcast just in time to swerve around a radio tower that loomed in front of her. "That was close!" By that time she was over the coast, and was leaving Britain in her wake, barely 50 feet over the waves. She could feel the air building up in front of her, like a wall, as she approached the limit she had never been able to pass. 'Mach 1' or 'maximum compressibility’ Dr. Z called it, the speed of sound. He didn't seem too sure what would happen if she went faster. At least her new costume was holding up. "Must go faster." she thought of all the men counting on her up ahead. As she continued to accelerate, she could fell the air pressure building up, and her knuckles began to heat up from the friction. She began to vibrate and buffet in the turbulent airflow. "Faster!" she gritted her teeth. Suddenly, the air wasn't in front of her anymore- it seemed to slip right by her, and she was accelerating.
Colleville-su-Mer, France
"Fall back to the rally point!" Sergeant Johnson grabbed Torres by the collar from where he had fallen, and moved back to toward the rubble of the farmhouse. A few hundred yards behind him, one of the kraut 'King Tiger' tanks pulled up over a low rise. The massive German fighting vehicles had made short work of the limited amount of inferior US Shermans that had made it ashore. There was a 'BOOM' as the Tiger slammed one of its massive 88 millimeter rounds into the remains of the building he was trying to reach, blasting in to oblivion. The shockwave laid him out, and he let go of Torres; he found himself staring up into the grey sky. "So much for plan B" he thought to himself. He prayed a little prayer that the weather would lift long enough for some 'Jugs' * to fly in and buy them some time. Suddenly there was another 'BOOM', and a sound like freight train going by, even louder than the tank gun. Johnson had the impression of a blue and gold streak in the sky above him, and he thought maybe a battleship round had just gone by at low altitude. He lifted himself up and looked back toward the German positions, hoping to see a crater where the battlewagon had taken out the German tank.
There was a girl there.
Hauptmann Gerhard Horst ordered his driver to halt as they came over the low rise. Major Wessel, in the lead tank, had just fired a round into a stone building that the Americans were falling back to, when there was loud noise from the sky above. He immediately ducked into his hatch, expecting the impact of heavy artillery round. When he heard nothing, he poked his head back out, and was amazed to see a beautiful blonde woman standing in front of Wessel's panzer, hands on her hips, and a defiant look on her face. Horst thought about the various super-humans the allies used, but did not recognize her- he would definitely have remembered her. He laughed to himself- there was no extra-powered human out there that could stop a tank division. The laugh caught in his throat as the girl grabbed the front plate of Major Wessel's Tiger, lifted the 75 ton machine high over her head, and flipped it backwards into Tiger no. 335 to his left.
Atom Girl watched the giant German tank sail backwards, end over end, until it slammed into the tank behind it with a tremendous impact. She tried not to think about the men that were inside, but she had seen the devastation that they had wreaked on the troops trying desperately to hold on in the area. She hoped that the display of power would convince the other Germans to give up, and she went back to her hands on hip pose. Several machine guns had opened up on her, and the incessant pelting of thousands of rounds per minute was becoming annoying. Then there was a 'CRACK-BOOM' from one of the panzers, and everything went white as a sledgehammer hit her in the stomach at 3600 feet per second.
Horst watched, incredulous, as at least five MGs poured fire into the girl, and the tracers merely arced off in random directions after striking her body. In fact, he could hear some of the ricochets plinking off the armor of his own vehicle. His funk was alleviated when another Tiger down the line fired an armor piercing round into the girl, propelling her backwards into a tree with such force that it was sheared off at the trunk. "Outstanding shot!" his own gunner yelled over the intercom. Horst couldn't shake the feeling that it was a very bad idea.
"Ooooh- peaches and cream!" Atom Girl rubbed her stomach. The blast had merely stunned her, but she realized the main portion of her outfit was reduced to blackened tatters around her. "So much for 'Zoflar'." She had hoped to keep her costume on for this one. She sat up, and spied the tank that had fired the round, barrel still smoking.
"Back up! Back up!" Horst screamed to the driver over the intercom. There was a clashing of gears as the big engine strained to get the bulky tank moving in reverse. The blond woman had stood back up after taking the high velocity tank round straight to the midsection, and was now just a streak heading for the panzer that had dared fire at her. She was instantly atop the vehicle, and bent the barrel back into a 'C' shape, until the entire turret ripped out of its mounting ring. Horst got a quick impression of the commander and gunner dangling off the edge of the turret and finally falling to the ground, and the loader sitting in the now turretless vehicle, with a heavy shell in his arms, wondering where the breech of the tank gun had suddenly disappeared to. The topless girl swung the now empty turret around in arc, and sent it sailing into a barn where the infantry had set up their machine guns, knocking it flat. She turned her head and scanned around, with a grim look on her face, until she locked eyes with Horst.
Atom Girl saw the last Tiger beginning to move backwards at high speed, with great clods of dirt flinging skyward. "Oh no you don't!" she said to herself. Flying quickly across the gap, she grabbed the big panzer by its front right track. She could feel her strength level starting to drop, as the flight over and her activities were taking their toll. She didn't think she could pick up a whole Tiger again, and was worried about what another '88' round would do to her. With a shearing squeal, the tank track ripped off in her hands, with metal pins and cleats flying off in all directions. The tank began to describe an awkward circle, as it only had traction on the left side. Joan saw the commander speak into his throat intercom, and the big vehicle halted. She stood with hands on her hips as the vehicle halted and he slowly raised his hands and climbed from the vehicle. All around her, German inantry were leaving their positions, throwing down their weapons, and walking towards the American soldiers who had arrived on the scene.
Horst stepped from the vehicle, and a US soldier grabbed him, took his pistol out of its holster, and patted him down. The girl continued to stand defiantly, her enormous chest thrust out proudly, but now with a pretty smile on her face. She slowly became aware that the American soldiers were all grinning at her, as well as large portion of the Germans, including Horst. A couple of wolf whistles led her to look down and realize that the upper portion of her costume was missing- she was completely topless and slick with sweat from her recent exertions. Horst thought she was the most amazing woman he'd ever seen, juggling panzers aside. With an “Oh!" she covered herself coyly, and sped off into the sky.
In the background, Sergeant Johnson propped up the now conscious Torres, stuck a Lucky Strike in the dazed corporal’s mouth, and lit it for him. "I guess I got my 'Jugs' after all." he laughed. "Thanks lady."
*P-47 Thunderbolt fighter-bombers. So nicknamed for their short, fat, and round fuselage.
"My apologies, Herr Field Marshal, but the starter appears to be broken, and we do not have a spare part available." The young motor pool corporal was visibly nervous addressing the high-ranking officer.
The General sighed and collected his briefing case and field cap.
"I don't suppose there is another car available?" He stepped gingerly out of the low slung black sedan, and onto the rain slicked cobblestones of the chateau's courtyard.
"No sir, the others are either out or already under repair. Again, my apologies." The corporal stood stiffly, trying to avoid eye contact and wishing he could shrink down into his work boots.
"Don't apologize to me!" the officer laughed pleasantly and clapped the young man on his shoulder. "You are going to have to answer to my wife! I guess I'll have just have to spend another dreary day here." He scanned the sky, and saw nothing but grey drizzle and low clouds. "At least with this rotten weather, there's no chance of too much excitement, eh corporal? I had hoped to spend the day with her though; I even bought her some expensive shoes in Paris! It's Mrs. Rommel's birthday you know- tomorrow, the sixth of June."
The Golden Age Origin of Atom Girl!
Chapter Three
Bletchley Park, England
June 5th, 1944
"Whewww." Fitch whistled. "Get a load of these digs, will ya?" The lieutenant poked a thumb at the imposing Victorian edifice. "Hard to believe all the top secret stuff that goes in here." A Royal Marine stood inconspicuously inside the front doorway, doing his best to studiously ignore Fitch's presence. Fitch leaned over the door of the drab army sedan that had brought them out from London. "OK doll, showtime! Let's see what the high mucky-mucks have planned for ya."
Joan slid around in her seat and stuck her legs out of the doorway. Although she had worn a long trench coat over her costume, the front flap folded back to her thighs as she slipped out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. The young Royal Marine suddenly became much more interested in the proceedings, and gave a broad toothy grin at the sight of her of silky, well toned limbs.
"Gosh Billy, isn't it simply exciting? I mean all the cloak and dagger, secret agent stuff." Joan linked an arm into his as they walked up to the guard and handed over their ID cards and papers.
"I guess so. Seems a lot of trouble to go through. We could just have the briefing at regular army HQ, it's not like anyone there is going to blab to the Krauts." The young Marine checked all the papers thoroughly, and waved them into the waiting room. Fitch immediately spied Admiral Bankford and General Griffin in a heated discussion in the corner. He wondered briefly if they were arguing over Atom Girl, until he caught a snippet about an intercepted touchdown pass. He snorted to himself. The two men would argue about whether or not the sky was blue. There were several people in the small anteroom he didn't recognize, and a tall, aristocratic, sandy blond-haired man. Although he had never seen him without his helmet, there weren't too many people who went around in jodhpurs with a rocket strapped to their back. The man noticed them and made a beeline.
"You must be Atom Girl! I've heard very good things about you” He said suavely.
"Charmed, I'm sure." Joan replied, putting her hand forward. The Englishman lifted it, bent, and brushed his lips on her knuckles.
"The pleasure is all mine, rest assured." The man released her hand, but Joan still held it out awkwardly, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
Fitch lit up a Chesterfield and squinted his good eye at the rocket man. "You must be Air Corps, if I may state the obvious. Whatsamatter, they don't have a rocket check girl at this joint?" He poked a finger at the heavy looking contraption.
"Yes, quite right. Lieutenant William Fitch, hero of the Battle of Midway, I presume." Fitch actually looked shocked for the first time Joan had known him, but it quickly passed. "I like to keep my rocket handy; you never know when a...situation might arise. Better safe than sorry."
"I get ya. Feel the same way. 'Be Prepared'- that's my motto." Fitch pointed at himself.
"Billy, that's the Boy Scout motto," Joan grinned at him "and you're no Boy Scout."
"I'm hurt, Joanie." Fitch made a face and covered his heart.
"If I may interrupt the banter" portly Admiral Bankford interjected. "The briefing is about to begin."
Bankford and Griffin walked into the briefing room, followed in a single file by the others. The two flag officers were a study in contrasts- the navy man was short and round, with a crumpled uniform and red cheeks that bespoke of a certain familiarity with the finer things in life. General Griffin was a tall, angular man with a hawk nose, starched uniform, and a reputation as a teetotaler.
The two men, and a British officer who must be their equivalent, stood in front of a wall display with a curtain in front of it. General Griffin began. "I'll get right to the point" He rasped in a gravelly voice. "You all know that the invasion is imminent. I have just received word that we are go for tomorrow at dawn." A hush fell over the room as an aide pulled back the curtain, to reveal a giant blow up map with the words OPERATION OVERLORD at the top. The map featured a section of the French coastline, labeled 'Normandy- Carentan Peninsula'.
Admiral Bankford stepped forward. "We are here to coordinate the activities of the various unorthodox and meta-powered individuals on our side." Fitch looked around in sharply, as he didn't see Sergeant Freedom anywhere in attendance.
Griffin continued the briefing. "Some of your compatriots have been briefed separately, due to the special nature of their missions. Sergeant Freedom, for example, is preparing for an overnight jump into France with the 101st Airborne Division." He stated proudly.
Fitch leaned into Joan, and whispered "Glory hound." into her ear. She responded with an elbow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. The others in the room looked around at them at the low "Ooof" Fitch emitted. Air Corps gave a good-natured chuckle.
"In any case, I'll turn you over to your individual briefer for details of your own missions. Good luck and God be with you."
Fitch had noticed a dusky dark haired girl with ruby red lips, her lithe figure ensconced in a tight black wrap, standing a few feet to his right. He gave her a smile, and she gave a sexy one in return, showing off two rows of bright white teeth that contrasted nicely with her tanned skin. He was thinking of going over and saying something to her when Bankford approached. "Good to see you are paying attention, Fitch."
The lieutenant turned to look at the admiral "Just familiarizing myself with the surroundings, boss." He turned back to look at the girl again, but the space was now empty, with only a hint of darkish fog in the area where she had been standing. "Whewww." He let out his favorite whistle.
Atom Girl stood to the side, and appeared to be attempting to burn a hole through Fitch with her eyes. The young lieutenant hoped she didn't develop a new power all of the sudden.
___
Atom Girl sat on the guest room couch, her knees drawn up to her chest. He arms were wrapped around her bright gold boots, and her chin rested dejectedly on her shapely knees. "They're not going to use me!’Kept in Reserve' Bankford says! What am I going to do, serve coffee to the code room?"
"I'll take mine black." Fitch quipped, and then regretted it. He lit up another smoke and looked at her thoughtfully. "Sorry about that doll, couldn't resist."
Joan continued to stare down at her boot toes, and said nothing.
"You'll get your chance, before you know it. Anyway, being 'in reserve' means they know you are the really big stick- they want you ready in case the shit really hits the proverbially fan- pardon my French."
"You really think so, Billy?" Atom Girl turned her head to look over at him.
"100 percent sure." He was actually only 50% percent sure. He was a little miffed himself, having lobbied to deploy Atom Girl to the Pacific, but Griffin and Bankford had overridden him. He didn't want to come all the way to Europe to warm the bench.
"Well, I guess we'd better rest up, then. Good night, Billy" She unzipped her boots and slipped her feet out. Leaning back, she stretched her long legs out and admired they way the glittered in the low lighting. She wiggled her toes a little.
Billy got up, and walked over to the door, navy cap twirling in one hand, and cigarette dangling from his lips. He turned suddenly at the door frame "You know Joanie, if you need ahh, a little company, I...”
"Good night, Billy." She turned to the door and blew him a kiss.
"Night, doll. See you in the funny papers."
Fitch shut the door, stuck his hands in his pockets, and sauntered down the hall.
Joan lay on the couch, and stared at the ceiling. She really didn't know what to do. She had half considered asking Billy to stay, but the Iowa preacher's daughter part of her thought better of it- she just wasn't that kind of girl. Anyway, she still couldn't figure him out. He seemed to like her, but then again, he treated all pretty girls that way, like that little tart sorceress at the briefing today. She glowered a little as she thought about it. Why did it make her so mad?
__
"..and I'm telling you we have to push them off the beaches within the next few hours, or this war is lost! Why is everyone at High Command so sure this is diversion?! I'm here, and I tell you this is the invasion! Here, now, in Normandy! I'm taking command of the reserve Panzer units myself, if I have to force them at gunpoint! The Fuhrer and his sleeping pills be damned!" Field Marshal Erwin Rommel slammed the telephone receiver into its cradle. He looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering what might have happened had he been visiting with his wife today as he had originally planned. He dismissed the thought: there was no time for idle what-ifs. He turned to his adjutant. "Send the dispatches, all reserve Panzer units to move forward and counterattack with utmost effort. Inform 2nd Panzer to move southwest with all speed possible." Rommel turned to study the wall map, as his staff moved little flags indicating the troops and tanks of the 12th SS Panzer Division closer to the central beachhead. The Americans had landed there, and so far had been having the roughest time moving off the beach, as well as having almost all their armor support founder in the rough surf. "We'll push them back into the Atlantic yet." He said to himself, and smiled.
Chapter 5
Walk Softly, and Carry a Big Stick
"Dammit. Dammit!" Griffin read the decoded intercepts that had been handed to him. He put his forehead into his hands and rubbed his temples vigorously. "Omaha beach is already a shit sandwich, and there are elements of a heavy Panzer Division and supporting Panzergreniadiers moving up. Those guys are the best trained and most experienced unit in Normandy, and have the latest, most advanced heavy tank designs. Rocket boy and his men are tied up at Juno and Gold beaches holding back the panzer reserves up there. Dammit! They were supposed to think this was a diversion, and not release the reserves so early!"
"Apparently, Rommel didn't read the memo." Bankford offered drolly.
"Wise-ass. That overcast is moving back in, limiting the effectiveness of our air power." Griffin sighed. "Is she ready, Bankford? Do you think she can pull this off?"
"Well, Griff," the admiral rolled his cigar around in his mouth. "There's only one way to find out."
---
Atom Girl sat at her small table, and pushed the spoon around in a bowl of soup she wasn't really interested in eating. She had gone ahead and put on her outfit, but it was already after noon and she hadn't heard a word yet. She was herding a pea around the edge of the soup bowl when Fitch burst in.
"Up and at 'em, Atom Girl! You just got activated"
"Really?!" She shot up from her chair. "What's going on?"
"Apparently, things aren't going to well, and you Joanie, are what's going on. Briefing in two minutes."
--
"Stand back everyone!" Fitch ordered. The small crowd of onlookers, military men and scientists, took a step back as Atom Girl removed the two glowing cylinders out of separate pouches in her utility belt.
"Here's mud in your eye." She stated, as she brought the rods together in front of her. There were 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the crowd as a bright blue and yellow flash engulfed the area, and the lines of force shimmered around Atom Girl for a moment, just as they had on that day in the lab.
"OK, A-Girl, Doc Z said that new outfit should be able to withstand a little higher speed- he mixed some carbon and asbestos fibers into a new synthetic- he calls it 'Zoflar' or something. Give it all you got- that tank division has to be stopped. You've got the coordinates, and there's a map in one of your pouches, as well as a miniature radio. I'm going to hit the beach with these army boys as soon as I can, I'll try and contact you from there."
"Be careful Billy." She said, and grabbed his hand.
"Right back at ya, doll."
He took a step back, and Atom Girl knelt down slightly, like a basketball player waiting to catch a rebound. The lines of force began to gather all around her, building up to the point that she was almost hidden in a shimmering curtain of wavy distortion, and then she flexed her legs, leaping upward like a bullet fired from a rifle. She punched through the low overcast and was gone from sight in a second. The crowd was awed even more than before. A few "Wows!" and "Holy Cows!" punctuated the murmur of the group.
"Go get 'em kid." General Griffin growled into the sky.
---
Atom Girl immediately found herself engulfed in a wet grey mist. "Gotta go lower." She thought to herself. She felt more than saw something in front of her, and flew below the grey overcast just in time to swerve around a radio tower that loomed in front of her. "That was close!" By that time she was over the coast, and was leaving Britain in her wake, barely 50 feet over the waves. She could feel the air building up in front of her, like a wall, as she approached the limit she had never been able to pass. 'Mach 1' or 'maximum compressibility’ Dr. Z called it, the speed of sound. He didn't seem too sure what would happen if she went faster. At least her new costume was holding up. "Must go faster." she thought of all the men counting on her up ahead. As she continued to accelerate, she could fell the air pressure building up, and her knuckles began to heat up from the friction. She began to vibrate and buffet in the turbulent airflow. "Faster!" she gritted her teeth. Suddenly, the air wasn't in front of her anymore- it seemed to slip right by her, and she was accelerating.
Colleville-su-Mer, France
"Fall back to the rally point!" Sergeant Johnson grabbed Torres by the collar from where he had fallen, and moved back to toward the rubble of the farmhouse. A few hundred yards behind him, one of the kraut 'King Tiger' tanks pulled up over a low rise. The massive German fighting vehicles had made short work of the limited amount of inferior US Shermans that had made it ashore. There was a 'BOOM' as the Tiger slammed one of its massive 88 millimeter rounds into the remains of the building he was trying to reach, blasting in to oblivion. The shockwave laid him out, and he let go of Torres; he found himself staring up into the grey sky. "So much for plan B" he thought to himself. He prayed a little prayer that the weather would lift long enough for some 'Jugs' * to fly in and buy them some time. Suddenly there was another 'BOOM', and a sound like freight train going by, even louder than the tank gun. Johnson had the impression of a blue and gold streak in the sky above him, and he thought maybe a battleship round had just gone by at low altitude. He lifted himself up and looked back toward the German positions, hoping to see a crater where the battlewagon had taken out the German tank.
There was a girl there.
Hauptmann Gerhard Horst ordered his driver to halt as they came over the low rise. Major Wessel, in the lead tank, had just fired a round into a stone building that the Americans were falling back to, when there was loud noise from the sky above. He immediately ducked into his hatch, expecting the impact of heavy artillery round. When he heard nothing, he poked his head back out, and was amazed to see a beautiful blonde woman standing in front of Wessel's panzer, hands on her hips, and a defiant look on her face. Horst thought about the various super-humans the allies used, but did not recognize her- he would definitely have remembered her. He laughed to himself- there was no extra-powered human out there that could stop a tank division. The laugh caught in his throat as the girl grabbed the front plate of Major Wessel's Tiger, lifted the 75 ton machine high over her head, and flipped it backwards into Tiger no. 335 to his left.
Atom Girl watched the giant German tank sail backwards, end over end, until it slammed into the tank behind it with a tremendous impact. She tried not to think about the men that were inside, but she had seen the devastation that they had wreaked on the troops trying desperately to hold on in the area. She hoped that the display of power would convince the other Germans to give up, and she went back to her hands on hip pose. Several machine guns had opened up on her, and the incessant pelting of thousands of rounds per minute was becoming annoying. Then there was a 'CRACK-BOOM' from one of the panzers, and everything went white as a sledgehammer hit her in the stomach at 3600 feet per second.
Horst watched, incredulous, as at least five MGs poured fire into the girl, and the tracers merely arced off in random directions after striking her body. In fact, he could hear some of the ricochets plinking off the armor of his own vehicle. His funk was alleviated when another Tiger down the line fired an armor piercing round into the girl, propelling her backwards into a tree with such force that it was sheared off at the trunk. "Outstanding shot!" his own gunner yelled over the intercom. Horst couldn't shake the feeling that it was a very bad idea.
"Ooooh- peaches and cream!" Atom Girl rubbed her stomach. The blast had merely stunned her, but she realized the main portion of her outfit was reduced to blackened tatters around her. "So much for 'Zoflar'." She had hoped to keep her costume on for this one. She sat up, and spied the tank that had fired the round, barrel still smoking.
"Back up! Back up!" Horst screamed to the driver over the intercom. There was a clashing of gears as the big engine strained to get the bulky tank moving in reverse. The blond woman had stood back up after taking the high velocity tank round straight to the midsection, and was now just a streak heading for the panzer that had dared fire at her. She was instantly atop the vehicle, and bent the barrel back into a 'C' shape, until the entire turret ripped out of its mounting ring. Horst got a quick impression of the commander and gunner dangling off the edge of the turret and finally falling to the ground, and the loader sitting in the now turretless vehicle, with a heavy shell in his arms, wondering where the breech of the tank gun had suddenly disappeared to. The topless girl swung the now empty turret around in arc, and sent it sailing into a barn where the infantry had set up their machine guns, knocking it flat. She turned her head and scanned around, with a grim look on her face, until she locked eyes with Horst.
Atom Girl saw the last Tiger beginning to move backwards at high speed, with great clods of dirt flinging skyward. "Oh no you don't!" she said to herself. Flying quickly across the gap, she grabbed the big panzer by its front right track. She could feel her strength level starting to drop, as the flight over and her activities were taking their toll. She didn't think she could pick up a whole Tiger again, and was worried about what another '88' round would do to her. With a shearing squeal, the tank track ripped off in her hands, with metal pins and cleats flying off in all directions. The tank began to describe an awkward circle, as it only had traction on the left side. Joan saw the commander speak into his throat intercom, and the big vehicle halted. She stood with hands on her hips as the vehicle halted and he slowly raised his hands and climbed from the vehicle. All around her, German inantry were leaving their positions, throwing down their weapons, and walking towards the American soldiers who had arrived on the scene.
Horst stepped from the vehicle, and a US soldier grabbed him, took his pistol out of its holster, and patted him down. The girl continued to stand defiantly, her enormous chest thrust out proudly, but now with a pretty smile on her face. She slowly became aware that the American soldiers were all grinning at her, as well as large portion of the Germans, including Horst. A couple of wolf whistles led her to look down and realize that the upper portion of her costume was missing- she was completely topless and slick with sweat from her recent exertions. Horst thought she was the most amazing woman he'd ever seen, juggling panzers aside. With an “Oh!" she covered herself coyly, and sped off into the sky.
In the background, Sergeant Johnson propped up the now conscious Torres, stuck a Lucky Strike in the dazed corporal’s mouth, and lit it for him. "I guess I got my 'Jugs' after all." he laughed. "Thanks lady."
*P-47 Thunderbolt fighter-bombers. So nicknamed for their short, fat, and round fuselage.
Part IV
September 10th, 1944
'The Fortress'
"If I could have your attention, we will start the presentation." The short, weaselly Gestapo officer in charge of the base turned and
fiddled with the projector.
Baron von Bronze gave a sigh and tapped his cigarette into the tall ashtray at his side. The other scientists sat around the room and held animated conversations with one another about the latest bits of research they delved into. Bronze found the others colossally boring, typical egg headed scientists, who more often than not, looked and acted the part. Wild unkempt hair, thick glasses, and absentmindedness- they couldn't be any more stereotypical. The lights dimmed, and the projector began to flicker.
WAAARRRRRBBLLLLL the projector gave out a horribly loud vibrating tone, and the black and white image jumped about on the screen in an incomprehensible mishmash of grays. The image faded, and Bronze could hear the loose end of the film click-clacking around the reel. "Terribly sorry" the officer announced as the lights came back up. There were snickers and guffaws from the crowd. So much for the urgent, important data they had been gathered to see. If the Gestapo couldn't even run a film projector properly, how were they supposed to take them seriously?
"Coffee, Herr Baron?" Werner was roused from his thoughts by someone standing over him.
"Coffee, Sir?"
"Eh? Oh yes." The young girl poured the steaming beverage into his cup. He had seen her around, an assistant to one of the other scientists, he assumed. She had pale skin, mousey brown hair pulled into a stern bun, a slim figure, and horn rimmed glasses. Up close, however, she seemed to possess a certain mysterious charm- her eyes were exotic; liquid green pools that seemed to be swirling constantly. There was something about her... and he hadn't sculpted in such a long time now. He shook the thought from his mind.
She gave Werner a bright smile, showing two rows of even white teeth. "Cream and sugar?"
"No thank you, I'll take it dark."
The girl walked on to the next scientist. An enlisted man had stepped up to the projector, and soon the Gestapo officer began his little film again. "This is the latest propaganda newsreel from the gangsters in Hollywood. Just to illustrate the effectiveness of their new weapon on morale."
3... 2...1... the titles counted down. 'BLIP' the screen lit up with images of various sporting contests, political figures, and of
course, celebrities, with a brassy trumpet fanfare for a soundtrack.
FOX-MOVIETONE NEWS OF THE WORLD the titles screamed.
ATOM-GIRL AXES AXIS U-BOAT PLOT!
The fast talking, silver tongued announcer began his spiel, and one of the Gestapo men began a running translation in German. Werner had no need for translation, and listened to the original English.
"The War Department was stunned when the German submarine-battleship Ludendorff surfaced off the US coast and began shelling Washington, DC." Scenes of several fires and damaged buildings illustrated the narration. "But before the kraut nogoodniks could do any serious damage, ATOM GIRL, America's fission powered sweetheart, put and end to the raiding days of the Nazi behemoth for good." The film now showed the once proud ship beached on a rocky strip of Maryland shore, like a broken toy in a bath tub. The camera zoomed in on the battleship, where 20 feet below the gothic-scripted LUDENDORFF on the bow, there was human-sized hole that went straight into the bowels of the ship. Daylight could be seen coming through from the other side.
The Baron couldn’t help snickering, and a few rows over, Dr. Festbinder, designer of the submarine-battleship, shrank a little lower in his seat. Werner had told them it would be a stupid waste of resources. Now displayed on the screen were images of the lovely heroine shaking hands with a Coast Guard captain, as the German crew was led off with hands clasped on their heads. Werner sat up in his seat. "After handing over the pride of the Kreigsmarine to the Coastal Defense Forces, ATOM GIRL sped off into the sky, only to be seen later that evening at a Manhattan war bond rally with Hollywood leading man, Neville Sinclair." A much better image of the girl, still in her audacious costume, clutching the arm of the handsome actor. The Baron found himself holding his breath at the sight of the beautiful girl, her gold cape fluttering in the brisk New York breeze, as flashbulbs went off all around her. "Incredible." He said under his breath.
The film jumped a little, and became grainy, jerky footage, without sound. "This is a collection of footage taken by our combat cameramen over the last few weeks," The spy group officer intoned, "and illustrates why she must be stopped at all costs." Various scenes of destruction ensued, including Atom Girl knocking over a gigantic railway gun in Italy, then ripping a rail out of the track bed and hurling it straight through an Me-109 fighter that was strafing her. Werner took more notice of the fact that a mortar round landing nearby ripped open the top of her leotard, giving him a wonderful view of her cleavage, until she wrapped her tattered cape around herself. The footage continued that way, with images of the seemingly unstoppable dynamo destroying the best that Nazi Germany could throw at her, and more often than not, losing some piece of her clothing.
"So you see gentleman," the rat-faced officer continued, as the Baron sat enraptured by the film, "We must redirect some of our effort to this new menace. Does anyone have thoughts on how this 'Atom Girl'" He spat the words "can be destroyed?"
Werner bolted from his chair "I volunteer to take immediate charge of this effort!"
"Well, uh, that is wonderful, Baron, but can you spare the time away from your project? The Reich is depending on it alone now." He gave
Festbinder a dirty glance, and the shriveled scientist skulked down a little more.
"My primary work is complete- as I've made clear in my reports, it is up to the delivery system people now. That is outside my field of expertise, but the others here still have much to complete before final deployment."
"Very well, Herr Baron. What do you need from me?"
"First of all, the film and newsreel footage you have collected. I need to...study it, in the privacy of my own manor, of course.
I... think better there."
The Gestapo officer thought for moment. "Very well, Baron, but remember to stay focused on the task, and not indulge in any... extracurricular activities."
"Jawohl, Herr Commandant." Werner turned back to the screen, still displaying scenes of Atom Girl wreaking havoc. "I must have her." He
said softly.
Later that day...
Hub City
Fitch walked dejectedly down the street, kicking his toe at whatever hapless pieces of refuse got in his way. He had decided to take in the latest Cagney picture, but left after the opening newsreel. "Neville Sinclair" he muttered to himself. It didn't help matters that his arm was still sore from the grazing bullet wound he'd received in helping subdue Ludendorff's crew. The German sailors had not given up as easily as the Hollywood version made it look, and Joan's strength was almost completely depleted in the few minutes it took to disable the large craft and push it towards the beach. That left it up to him and the boys on the ground to capture the crew, but that hadn't made it into the newsreel; Atom Girl's strength limitations were still Top Secret, and it was easier to make it look like she did all the work, rather than explain why she didn't.
He walked all the way back to his flat, rather than hailing a cab. While letting himself in, he immediately noticed something wasn't
right, and slipped his .45 auto out of its shoulder holster. The big gun was smooth and cold in his hand, but warm and comforting at the same time. Deciding to take the initiative, he pointed the gun at the center of the room, hit and hit the lights.
"You're not that mad at me, are you Billy?" Atom Girl stated demurely, sitting cross legged at his small dinner table.
"Whatsamatter, Sinclair too busy tonight?" Fitch thumbed the safety back on the Colt, and returned it to the holster. Taking off his Navy dress coat, he rooted around in a cabinet and produced a bottle of scotch. "How'd do you get in here, anyway? Wait, look who I'm talking too, I'm lucky I still have four walls."
"Oh Billy," Joan got up from her chair and walked over to him. "Don't be so melodramatic. You know I have to do those silly publicity drives- it's part of the job. The rest is just made up rumors by Hollywood gossip columnists. Besides," anger flashed in her eyes, "what business is it of yours, anyway? Just because you chase around every skirt in the Capitol, doesn't mean they belong to you."
Fitch poured two drinks, one neat, and one with soda on the rocks, which he handed to Joan. "Chasing skirts? I haven't had a date in two years." He looked down at his drink. “I only have room for one girl at a time."
Atom Girl sat her drink on the table, and walked closer to Billy. She put her hands on his chest, and leaned her head against him. She
hadn't realized how tall he was. Fitch put his arms around her, feeling the cool slickness of her leotard, yet with a hint of warmth beneath it. The fading ebb of her powers gave her an odd feeling- she was soft and hard at the same time. There was an electric tingle to her skin as his cheek brushed hers.
"What happens now?" Fitch asked uncertainly.
Atom Girl laughed, and looked into his eyes. "Kiss me, stupid."
What choice did he have?
---
"Prepare the car, Hans, we are returning to the castle immediately. I'm going to gather a few things." The big manservant nodded and walked off down the hallway. Baron Von Bronze stepped back to the film room jauntily, already mulling over a few ideas on how to subdue the mighty Atom Girl. She had to have a weakness, and he would find it, even if he had to watch her celluloid exploits over and over again. The thought made him smile. He was somewhat startled when he burst into the film room to find the mousey coffee girl scrounging through his briefcase papers.
"Herr Baron!" she gasped, "I was just going through these to ascertain who they belonged too! They are yours." She hurriedly stuffed the papers back into the case and proffered the leather case to the Baron.
"I suppose the monogrammed crest with family name wasn't enough for you, hmmm?" He grabbed the case. "Perhaps the Commandant would like to speak to you about your interest in my project?"
"I- there's no need for that, I assure you! If you just let me exp...oww!"
The Baron seized her by the wrist. "Just come along Fraulein, I'm sure the Gestapo has ways to discover..." The girl muttered something that sounded Greek, and he stopped short as suddenly there was nothing to hold onto. The girl seemed to evaporate into a black vapor that coiled along the floor, and reformed a few feet away into a dusky, dark haired beauty in a skintight black catsuit, with matching cape and hood. Her gloves and the cloak edges were embroidered with Greek symbols in stark white. Only the amazing green eyes stayed the same. She flashed him a wolf's smile, again showing her perfect white teeth.
"Ahh, the mysterious Dark Eidolon- I should have guessed." The sorceress again chanted her short magic, and shifted into vapor once more, roiling rapidly for the room's only door. Werner backed up a few steps, and kicked the heavy door closed. "Gas proof, don't you
know. Have to be ready for all contingencies." A flick of a wall switch closed off all the ventilation ports on the walls.
The phantom vapor moved off to a corner and coalesced once more into to the shapely heroine. "I have more magic than that." The
Mediterranean maiden said mockingly, and began another spell, gesturing her hands toward the Baron.
Von Bronze put his hands up in front of him, "No need, I surrender!" The move caught the mystical enchantress off guard for a second,
enough for Bronze to flex his hands backwards. There was a faint ‘CHUFF’, and Dark Eidolon brought her left arm in front of her
face, changing spells in midstream to a ward of protection.
"Mavrikos stalve...erk" Her eyes green eyes widened in surprise, staring at the red flower that blossomed on her forearm, the wispy tufts of a dart projectile. She found herself unable to move a muscle.
The Baron walked rapidly up to her, and the trapped heroine's eyes followed him. He held on of his wrists up to her eyes. "Nifty eh?
Dart launching cufflinks! I saw it in an American serial picture! What spell were you going to cast on me anyway? Turn me into a newt
or something?" The girl’s eyes blazed defiance. "Don't worry; the drug only affects the voluntary control of major muscle groups. You'll be fit enough in an hour or so to answer the Gestapo's questions." He picked up a phone from its wall cradle, and moved his finger to dial. Dark Eidolon’s mesmerizing green eyes stared at him.
Werner hesitated, and let his eyes wander over the supple, tone form of the immobilized beauty. "No." He hung the phone up. "What would they do? Torture you? Rob the world of your beauty? You would probably escape from those incompetent boobs anyway." Putting his left hand to his chin, he tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Although you don't deserve it, Allied spy, I think I will give you a most precious gift." He stepped over, and began caressing the girl through her diaphanous catsuit. "Such form! Not voluptuous, but embodying the classical elements of Greek athletic ideals. And such a wonderful pose! Caught in the motion of casting one of your spells, the mystic super-heroine in action!" He rubbed her firm, moderately sized breasts, feeling the nipples harden into small pebbles beneath the slick material. "I did say 'voluntary' action." He chuckled. "Yes, you are returning to my estate with me, the Gestapo need never know you were here. I have some new techniques I need to test, to ready them for my ultimate masterpiece. Perhaps I need to open a whole heroine wing!" He moved his hands to her rounded bottom, savoring the supple, silky smoothness. Leaning into her ear, he whispered "You are going to make an excellent statue."
For the first time, Dark Eidolon’s eyes showed fear.
___
Von Bronze opened the door slowly, and stuck his head through the narrow gap. Satisfying himself that no one was in the hallway, he hastened to his laboratory to gather a few items, and stopped by the garage on his way back. Hans was leaning against the rear of the Mercedes sedan, having a cigarette.
“Hans! Follow me, quickly! We have… business to attend to.” Werner peered around in the gloom to ensure there was no around. Thankfully, most of the scientists and other personnel had retired for the evening. Only the routine patrols walked the interior grounds, and he was familiar with their routes.
“Jawhol, Herr Baron.” Hans followed the baron back to the projector room. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the paralyzed Eidolon, but then returned to their normal implacable gaze.
“Help me set up the new equipment. The Baron took various pieces of equipment from his satchel, and he and Hans assembled them into a device that resembled nothing more than a complex vacuum cleaner. “Plug this in.” Hans looked around the room, and then spotted the projector plug running behind a curtain. Stooping to his hands and knees, he followed the cord until he located the wall outlet, and plugged in the device.
Hans played the nozzle over the heroine’s stiff form, and a bluish haze of distortion bathed her. “Ah, beautiful woman, and such a wonder you are. But I can take that beauty- and preserve it!”
Hans had heard a variation of this speech a dozen times, and his eyes rolled imperceptibly at the theatrics of his employer. Dark Eidolon’s tanned skin was taking on a decidedly glossy sheen, as her cells petrified like all of the Baron’s previous victims, although her costume remained unaffected. Her eyes were caught in a moment of widened shock, as they solidified to glassy hardness.
“There now!” The dapper aristocrat turned off his infernal machine. He placed his hands on the lithe Greek girl’s shoulder, and tipped her lightened figure backwards, rotating her slightly to check for complete vitrification. Her pose remained rock steady, without a hint that she was anything more than an inanimate object. Rapping his knuckles on her forehead, and appeared satisfied with the clunk that issued.
“My new mobile vitrifier is wonderful! Soon, I will have the miniaturization technology perfected!” He rubbed his hands with glee. “Now to get you to the manor, my lovely- to immortalize you in beautiful bronze! Hans,” He half turned to his assistant. “Pull down that curtain. We must look as if we are carrying lab equipment.” The burly servant did as he was bid, and they soon had the statuefied lovely wrapped up tightly.
Since the petrifying process lightened the subjects considerably, it added to the illusion that they were carrying a much lighter load. As it was, no one troubled them on the passage to the garage area.
“Excellent, we are almost away! Now to put her in the trunk and….” The Baron stopped in consternation. Hans had lifted the trunk lid, and he realized her pose was going to make it somewhat awkward getting her inside. “Here- rotate her left. Not your left, my left!” They fumbled with the statue-girl for a minute, before finally wedging her into the vehicle. Wiping his hands together, Werner began walking toward the passenger side. “Now to get her to the castle and fin…”
“Herr Baron?” Hans interrupted.
“Yes, what is it?” Werner turned in mid-stride.
“The trunk will not close.” Hans moved the lid up and down feebly, to illustrate his predicament.
“Arrrrrr!” Werner stomped back to the recalcitrant storage area.
“Move… her…come on…” Werner jerked the curtained wrapped glass girl around, trying to find a point that did not interfere with the hinge. “There! See? It was not so difficult.” He pulled the lid down with an imperious look on his face. The lid stopped about ½ an inch short of the catch. “Hrrrrrrrrm!” he huffed. He started pumping the lid rapidly up and down, trying to force it on the catch.
“Herr Baron- you are not going to… break her, are you?” Hans asked tentatively.
“Obviously not, you idiot! She is a work of art! Besides, the vitrified tissue is almost imperv….”
“Von Bronze! What goes on here?” The Commandant walked up, smoking a long cigarette through a holder. He eyed the Baron suspiciously through his monocle.
“Ah! Herr Oberst!” Werner spun quickly, and held the lid down behind his back. “Just ah, packing some equipment, I wanted to do some tests over the weekend.”
Hans pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to polish the car windows, while whistling an off-key tune.
“Well, that’s commendable, taking your work with you.” The Colonel darkened slightly. “That’s not classified material, is it?”
“Of course not, my dear Oberst! Just a little electrical metering that needs rewiring. “Now if I could just, ah, fit it in the trunk here.”
“Let me help you.” The Colonel held the lid while a surprised Baron reached in and rearranged his secret bounty slightly. “There we go.” The stubborn lid clicked closed.
Looking relieved, Werner turned to get in the car. Hans had already given up his polishing and started the luxury sedan. The Commandant put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Remember, Baron- no side distractions, as we discussed. Keep your mind on your work.”
“Of course, Herr Oberst- I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The aristocrat entered the vehicle, and nodded to Hans. “Drive.”
---
Werner cut away the Eidolon’s catsuit with a pair of shears. He decided to leave her other super heroine accoutrements intact, to match her pose- preserved in that act of casting her spell. “Yes,” he said lovingly, caressing her smooth, glassy form, “I must definitely begin a heroine display. You will be the first of a long line- including the wondrous Atom Girl. You will be in good company.” He left the platform and activated the winch, lowering the petrified girl into the smooth, syrupy vat of liquid bronze. Another gesture and she returned to the surface, now thinly coated in the lustrous metal, reflecting the lights in a dark myriad of colors. “I’m sure you never thought you’d end up like this, my little sorceress-spy. But you are Greek, and so now you are a classical work of Greek art.” He ran his hands along her smoothly bronzed arms, and reveled in how the lacquer-like coating brought out every detail of her toned muscles. The bronze coating was not that different than her regular skin tone, really; it was just magnified in glossiness and luster. “Your ancestors would be proud. And my superiors need never know you were here.”
The Baron set his newest metallic creation on the handcart, and trundled her off to her new home.
'The Fortress'
"If I could have your attention, we will start the presentation." The short, weaselly Gestapo officer in charge of the base turned and
fiddled with the projector.
Baron von Bronze gave a sigh and tapped his cigarette into the tall ashtray at his side. The other scientists sat around the room and held animated conversations with one another about the latest bits of research they delved into. Bronze found the others colossally boring, typical egg headed scientists, who more often than not, looked and acted the part. Wild unkempt hair, thick glasses, and absentmindedness- they couldn't be any more stereotypical. The lights dimmed, and the projector began to flicker.
WAAARRRRRBBLLLLL the projector gave out a horribly loud vibrating tone, and the black and white image jumped about on the screen in an incomprehensible mishmash of grays. The image faded, and Bronze could hear the loose end of the film click-clacking around the reel. "Terribly sorry" the officer announced as the lights came back up. There were snickers and guffaws from the crowd. So much for the urgent, important data they had been gathered to see. If the Gestapo couldn't even run a film projector properly, how were they supposed to take them seriously?
"Coffee, Herr Baron?" Werner was roused from his thoughts by someone standing over him.
"Coffee, Sir?"
"Eh? Oh yes." The young girl poured the steaming beverage into his cup. He had seen her around, an assistant to one of the other scientists, he assumed. She had pale skin, mousey brown hair pulled into a stern bun, a slim figure, and horn rimmed glasses. Up close, however, she seemed to possess a certain mysterious charm- her eyes were exotic; liquid green pools that seemed to be swirling constantly. There was something about her... and he hadn't sculpted in such a long time now. He shook the thought from his mind.
She gave Werner a bright smile, showing two rows of even white teeth. "Cream and sugar?"
"No thank you, I'll take it dark."
The girl walked on to the next scientist. An enlisted man had stepped up to the projector, and soon the Gestapo officer began his little film again. "This is the latest propaganda newsreel from the gangsters in Hollywood. Just to illustrate the effectiveness of their new weapon on morale."
3... 2...1... the titles counted down. 'BLIP' the screen lit up with images of various sporting contests, political figures, and of
course, celebrities, with a brassy trumpet fanfare for a soundtrack.
FOX-MOVIETONE NEWS OF THE WORLD the titles screamed.
ATOM-GIRL AXES AXIS U-BOAT PLOT!
The fast talking, silver tongued announcer began his spiel, and one of the Gestapo men began a running translation in German. Werner had no need for translation, and listened to the original English.
"The War Department was stunned when the German submarine-battleship Ludendorff surfaced off the US coast and began shelling Washington, DC." Scenes of several fires and damaged buildings illustrated the narration. "But before the kraut nogoodniks could do any serious damage, ATOM GIRL, America's fission powered sweetheart, put and end to the raiding days of the Nazi behemoth for good." The film now showed the once proud ship beached on a rocky strip of Maryland shore, like a broken toy in a bath tub. The camera zoomed in on the battleship, where 20 feet below the gothic-scripted LUDENDORFF on the bow, there was human-sized hole that went straight into the bowels of the ship. Daylight could be seen coming through from the other side.
The Baron couldn’t help snickering, and a few rows over, Dr. Festbinder, designer of the submarine-battleship, shrank a little lower in his seat. Werner had told them it would be a stupid waste of resources. Now displayed on the screen were images of the lovely heroine shaking hands with a Coast Guard captain, as the German crew was led off with hands clasped on their heads. Werner sat up in his seat. "After handing over the pride of the Kreigsmarine to the Coastal Defense Forces, ATOM GIRL sped off into the sky, only to be seen later that evening at a Manhattan war bond rally with Hollywood leading man, Neville Sinclair." A much better image of the girl, still in her audacious costume, clutching the arm of the handsome actor. The Baron found himself holding his breath at the sight of the beautiful girl, her gold cape fluttering in the brisk New York breeze, as flashbulbs went off all around her. "Incredible." He said under his breath.
The film jumped a little, and became grainy, jerky footage, without sound. "This is a collection of footage taken by our combat cameramen over the last few weeks," The spy group officer intoned, "and illustrates why she must be stopped at all costs." Various scenes of destruction ensued, including Atom Girl knocking over a gigantic railway gun in Italy, then ripping a rail out of the track bed and hurling it straight through an Me-109 fighter that was strafing her. Werner took more notice of the fact that a mortar round landing nearby ripped open the top of her leotard, giving him a wonderful view of her cleavage, until she wrapped her tattered cape around herself. The footage continued that way, with images of the seemingly unstoppable dynamo destroying the best that Nazi Germany could throw at her, and more often than not, losing some piece of her clothing.
"So you see gentleman," the rat-faced officer continued, as the Baron sat enraptured by the film, "We must redirect some of our effort to this new menace. Does anyone have thoughts on how this 'Atom Girl'" He spat the words "can be destroyed?"
Werner bolted from his chair "I volunteer to take immediate charge of this effort!"
"Well, uh, that is wonderful, Baron, but can you spare the time away from your project? The Reich is depending on it alone now." He gave
Festbinder a dirty glance, and the shriveled scientist skulked down a little more.
"My primary work is complete- as I've made clear in my reports, it is up to the delivery system people now. That is outside my field of expertise, but the others here still have much to complete before final deployment."
"Very well, Herr Baron. What do you need from me?"
"First of all, the film and newsreel footage you have collected. I need to...study it, in the privacy of my own manor, of course.
I... think better there."
The Gestapo officer thought for moment. "Very well, Baron, but remember to stay focused on the task, and not indulge in any... extracurricular activities."
"Jawohl, Herr Commandant." Werner turned back to the screen, still displaying scenes of Atom Girl wreaking havoc. "I must have her." He
said softly.
Later that day...
Hub City
Fitch walked dejectedly down the street, kicking his toe at whatever hapless pieces of refuse got in his way. He had decided to take in the latest Cagney picture, but left after the opening newsreel. "Neville Sinclair" he muttered to himself. It didn't help matters that his arm was still sore from the grazing bullet wound he'd received in helping subdue Ludendorff's crew. The German sailors had not given up as easily as the Hollywood version made it look, and Joan's strength was almost completely depleted in the few minutes it took to disable the large craft and push it towards the beach. That left it up to him and the boys on the ground to capture the crew, but that hadn't made it into the newsreel; Atom Girl's strength limitations were still Top Secret, and it was easier to make it look like she did all the work, rather than explain why she didn't.
He walked all the way back to his flat, rather than hailing a cab. While letting himself in, he immediately noticed something wasn't
right, and slipped his .45 auto out of its shoulder holster. The big gun was smooth and cold in his hand, but warm and comforting at the same time. Deciding to take the initiative, he pointed the gun at the center of the room, hit and hit the lights.
"You're not that mad at me, are you Billy?" Atom Girl stated demurely, sitting cross legged at his small dinner table.
"Whatsamatter, Sinclair too busy tonight?" Fitch thumbed the safety back on the Colt, and returned it to the holster. Taking off his Navy dress coat, he rooted around in a cabinet and produced a bottle of scotch. "How'd do you get in here, anyway? Wait, look who I'm talking too, I'm lucky I still have four walls."
"Oh Billy," Joan got up from her chair and walked over to him. "Don't be so melodramatic. You know I have to do those silly publicity drives- it's part of the job. The rest is just made up rumors by Hollywood gossip columnists. Besides," anger flashed in her eyes, "what business is it of yours, anyway? Just because you chase around every skirt in the Capitol, doesn't mean they belong to you."
Fitch poured two drinks, one neat, and one with soda on the rocks, which he handed to Joan. "Chasing skirts? I haven't had a date in two years." He looked down at his drink. “I only have room for one girl at a time."
Atom Girl sat her drink on the table, and walked closer to Billy. She put her hands on his chest, and leaned her head against him. She
hadn't realized how tall he was. Fitch put his arms around her, feeling the cool slickness of her leotard, yet with a hint of warmth beneath it. The fading ebb of her powers gave her an odd feeling- she was soft and hard at the same time. There was an electric tingle to her skin as his cheek brushed hers.
"What happens now?" Fitch asked uncertainly.
Atom Girl laughed, and looked into his eyes. "Kiss me, stupid."
What choice did he have?
---
"Prepare the car, Hans, we are returning to the castle immediately. I'm going to gather a few things." The big manservant nodded and walked off down the hallway. Baron Von Bronze stepped back to the film room jauntily, already mulling over a few ideas on how to subdue the mighty Atom Girl. She had to have a weakness, and he would find it, even if he had to watch her celluloid exploits over and over again. The thought made him smile. He was somewhat startled when he burst into the film room to find the mousey coffee girl scrounging through his briefcase papers.
"Herr Baron!" she gasped, "I was just going through these to ascertain who they belonged too! They are yours." She hurriedly stuffed the papers back into the case and proffered the leather case to the Baron.
"I suppose the monogrammed crest with family name wasn't enough for you, hmmm?" He grabbed the case. "Perhaps the Commandant would like to speak to you about your interest in my project?"
"I- there's no need for that, I assure you! If you just let me exp...oww!"
The Baron seized her by the wrist. "Just come along Fraulein, I'm sure the Gestapo has ways to discover..." The girl muttered something that sounded Greek, and he stopped short as suddenly there was nothing to hold onto. The girl seemed to evaporate into a black vapor that coiled along the floor, and reformed a few feet away into a dusky, dark haired beauty in a skintight black catsuit, with matching cape and hood. Her gloves and the cloak edges were embroidered with Greek symbols in stark white. Only the amazing green eyes stayed the same. She flashed him a wolf's smile, again showing her perfect white teeth.
"Ahh, the mysterious Dark Eidolon- I should have guessed." The sorceress again chanted her short magic, and shifted into vapor once more, roiling rapidly for the room's only door. Werner backed up a few steps, and kicked the heavy door closed. "Gas proof, don't you
know. Have to be ready for all contingencies." A flick of a wall switch closed off all the ventilation ports on the walls.
The phantom vapor moved off to a corner and coalesced once more into to the shapely heroine. "I have more magic than that." The
Mediterranean maiden said mockingly, and began another spell, gesturing her hands toward the Baron.
Von Bronze put his hands up in front of him, "No need, I surrender!" The move caught the mystical enchantress off guard for a second,
enough for Bronze to flex his hands backwards. There was a faint ‘CHUFF’, and Dark Eidolon brought her left arm in front of her
face, changing spells in midstream to a ward of protection.
"Mavrikos stalve...erk" Her eyes green eyes widened in surprise, staring at the red flower that blossomed on her forearm, the wispy tufts of a dart projectile. She found herself unable to move a muscle.
The Baron walked rapidly up to her, and the trapped heroine's eyes followed him. He held on of his wrists up to her eyes. "Nifty eh?
Dart launching cufflinks! I saw it in an American serial picture! What spell were you going to cast on me anyway? Turn me into a newt
or something?" The girl’s eyes blazed defiance. "Don't worry; the drug only affects the voluntary control of major muscle groups. You'll be fit enough in an hour or so to answer the Gestapo's questions." He picked up a phone from its wall cradle, and moved his finger to dial. Dark Eidolon’s mesmerizing green eyes stared at him.
Werner hesitated, and let his eyes wander over the supple, tone form of the immobilized beauty. "No." He hung the phone up. "What would they do? Torture you? Rob the world of your beauty? You would probably escape from those incompetent boobs anyway." Putting his left hand to his chin, he tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Although you don't deserve it, Allied spy, I think I will give you a most precious gift." He stepped over, and began caressing the girl through her diaphanous catsuit. "Such form! Not voluptuous, but embodying the classical elements of Greek athletic ideals. And such a wonderful pose! Caught in the motion of casting one of your spells, the mystic super-heroine in action!" He rubbed her firm, moderately sized breasts, feeling the nipples harden into small pebbles beneath the slick material. "I did say 'voluntary' action." He chuckled. "Yes, you are returning to my estate with me, the Gestapo need never know you were here. I have some new techniques I need to test, to ready them for my ultimate masterpiece. Perhaps I need to open a whole heroine wing!" He moved his hands to her rounded bottom, savoring the supple, silky smoothness. Leaning into her ear, he whispered "You are going to make an excellent statue."
For the first time, Dark Eidolon’s eyes showed fear.
___
Von Bronze opened the door slowly, and stuck his head through the narrow gap. Satisfying himself that no one was in the hallway, he hastened to his laboratory to gather a few items, and stopped by the garage on his way back. Hans was leaning against the rear of the Mercedes sedan, having a cigarette.
“Hans! Follow me, quickly! We have… business to attend to.” Werner peered around in the gloom to ensure there was no around. Thankfully, most of the scientists and other personnel had retired for the evening. Only the routine patrols walked the interior grounds, and he was familiar with their routes.
“Jawhol, Herr Baron.” Hans followed the baron back to the projector room. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the paralyzed Eidolon, but then returned to their normal implacable gaze.
“Help me set up the new equipment. The Baron took various pieces of equipment from his satchel, and he and Hans assembled them into a device that resembled nothing more than a complex vacuum cleaner. “Plug this in.” Hans looked around the room, and then spotted the projector plug running behind a curtain. Stooping to his hands and knees, he followed the cord until he located the wall outlet, and plugged in the device.
Hans played the nozzle over the heroine’s stiff form, and a bluish haze of distortion bathed her. “Ah, beautiful woman, and such a wonder you are. But I can take that beauty- and preserve it!”
Hans had heard a variation of this speech a dozen times, and his eyes rolled imperceptibly at the theatrics of his employer. Dark Eidolon’s tanned skin was taking on a decidedly glossy sheen, as her cells petrified like all of the Baron’s previous victims, although her costume remained unaffected. Her eyes were caught in a moment of widened shock, as they solidified to glassy hardness.
“There now!” The dapper aristocrat turned off his infernal machine. He placed his hands on the lithe Greek girl’s shoulder, and tipped her lightened figure backwards, rotating her slightly to check for complete vitrification. Her pose remained rock steady, without a hint that she was anything more than an inanimate object. Rapping his knuckles on her forehead, and appeared satisfied with the clunk that issued.
“My new mobile vitrifier is wonderful! Soon, I will have the miniaturization technology perfected!” He rubbed his hands with glee. “Now to get you to the manor, my lovely- to immortalize you in beautiful bronze! Hans,” He half turned to his assistant. “Pull down that curtain. We must look as if we are carrying lab equipment.” The burly servant did as he was bid, and they soon had the statuefied lovely wrapped up tightly.
Since the petrifying process lightened the subjects considerably, it added to the illusion that they were carrying a much lighter load. As it was, no one troubled them on the passage to the garage area.
“Excellent, we are almost away! Now to put her in the trunk and….” The Baron stopped in consternation. Hans had lifted the trunk lid, and he realized her pose was going to make it somewhat awkward getting her inside. “Here- rotate her left. Not your left, my left!” They fumbled with the statue-girl for a minute, before finally wedging her into the vehicle. Wiping his hands together, Werner began walking toward the passenger side. “Now to get her to the castle and fin…”
“Herr Baron?” Hans interrupted.
“Yes, what is it?” Werner turned in mid-stride.
“The trunk will not close.” Hans moved the lid up and down feebly, to illustrate his predicament.
“Arrrrrr!” Werner stomped back to the recalcitrant storage area.
“Move… her…come on…” Werner jerked the curtained wrapped glass girl around, trying to find a point that did not interfere with the hinge. “There! See? It was not so difficult.” He pulled the lid down with an imperious look on his face. The lid stopped about ½ an inch short of the catch. “Hrrrrrrrrm!” he huffed. He started pumping the lid rapidly up and down, trying to force it on the catch.
“Herr Baron- you are not going to… break her, are you?” Hans asked tentatively.
“Obviously not, you idiot! She is a work of art! Besides, the vitrified tissue is almost imperv….”
“Von Bronze! What goes on here?” The Commandant walked up, smoking a long cigarette through a holder. He eyed the Baron suspiciously through his monocle.
“Ah! Herr Oberst!” Werner spun quickly, and held the lid down behind his back. “Just ah, packing some equipment, I wanted to do some tests over the weekend.”
Hans pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to polish the car windows, while whistling an off-key tune.
“Well, that’s commendable, taking your work with you.” The Colonel darkened slightly. “That’s not classified material, is it?”
“Of course not, my dear Oberst! Just a little electrical metering that needs rewiring. “Now if I could just, ah, fit it in the trunk here.”
“Let me help you.” The Colonel held the lid while a surprised Baron reached in and rearranged his secret bounty slightly. “There we go.” The stubborn lid clicked closed.
Looking relieved, Werner turned to get in the car. Hans had already given up his polishing and started the luxury sedan. The Commandant put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Remember, Baron- no side distractions, as we discussed. Keep your mind on your work.”
“Of course, Herr Oberst- I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The aristocrat entered the vehicle, and nodded to Hans. “Drive.”
---
Werner cut away the Eidolon’s catsuit with a pair of shears. He decided to leave her other super heroine accoutrements intact, to match her pose- preserved in that act of casting her spell. “Yes,” he said lovingly, caressing her smooth, glassy form, “I must definitely begin a heroine display. You will be the first of a long line- including the wondrous Atom Girl. You will be in good company.” He left the platform and activated the winch, lowering the petrified girl into the smooth, syrupy vat of liquid bronze. Another gesture and she returned to the surface, now thinly coated in the lustrous metal, reflecting the lights in a dark myriad of colors. “I’m sure you never thought you’d end up like this, my little sorceress-spy. But you are Greek, and so now you are a classical work of Greek art.” He ran his hands along her smoothly bronzed arms, and reveled in how the lacquer-like coating brought out every detail of her toned muscles. The bronze coating was not that different than her regular skin tone, really; it was just magnified in glossiness and luster. “Your ancestors would be proud. And my superiors need never know you were here.”
The Baron set his newest metallic creation on the handcart, and trundled her off to her new home.
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superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
Its Daz3d, a freeware version of Poser. http://www.daz3d.com
You can get the Vicky 3 figure for free there to, but everything else (clothes and costumes) you have to make, find, or purchase.
Thanks for the feedback!
Bas
You can get the Vicky 3 figure for free there to, but everything else (clothes and costumes) you have to make, find, or purchase.
Thanks for the feedback!
Bas
Last edited by basilisk 21 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
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MightyHypnotic
- Site Admin
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- Joined: 22 years ago
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