LessThanThree Legends

Part One
Growing up, I was always the ‘gifted’ kid. I was pushed ahead in elementary school, then again in middle school, and again in high school. I finished my undergraduate degree in two years, and had my Masters in Biology by eighteen. So even back then, I was an introvert. I didn’t have any peers my own age, and that meant I forced myself into a shell.
I was almost immediately accepted into a PhD program at UCLA, and threw myself straight into my work. I didn’t have any social commitments, so my thesis was all I had. But I wanted more. Within a year, my thesis was complete. My paper was published in three different journals, and I had my PhD. I was Dr Eugene Phillips. I had finally achieved my goal.
Of course, within a month, there were a dozen papers claiming to prove my thesis wrong. No-one believed that my method of instantly petrifying wood was possible. They thought I had faked my experiments. But I was going to show them different. They couldn’t take my achievement from me.
It was on the fifth of November, 1960 when I stood at the front of the lecture hall at UCLA, in front of fifty of my peers. The most celebrated minds in biology were sitting there, waiting for my demonstration. Waiting to see if I was a fraud, or if I was something more.
I gave my speech, effectively paraphrasing my original paper, as well as including a brief lecture on the equipment I was using. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say, I was using the radiation from a laser to force a reaction between the sample piece of wood, and a mixture of chemicals. Simple enough. I had done it dozens of times in the lab. Nothing was going to go wrong.
I couldn’t have predicted the lighting falling from its bracket. Even if I had, there was no way I would have known it would hit the storage vat, containing gallons of the petrification solution. I shouldn’t have tried to save it. I shouldn’t have stepped in the way. I was doused in the chemicals, as the second light came crashing down on top of the laser, pointing it in my direction and causing it to fire.
I came to moments later, as people ran around me, screaming. I had two men leaning over me, shouting at me, as though I couldn’t hear them. They wanted to know if I was still alive.
“Of course I am.” I boomed. That wasn’t my voice. What had happened to me? That was when I saw my hands. They had turned grey, and they were hard. Like stone. But I could move them properly, as if they were still flesh. Realisation dawned, as I recalled what had happened to me seconds earlier. I had somehow managed to petrify my body, and survived the process.
I sat up and scratched my head. Not because it itched, that was most likely impossible now, but because I was bewildered.
A woman screamed that the freak was coming for her, and the room quickly emptied, even the two men who were trying to care for me followed the crowd, and I was left alone. Again. Just a Freak.
Part Two
We’re lucky it turned out the way it did really. I mean, sure, in a perfect world, we never would have screwed up the experiment in the first place. But honestly, if we’d all died, or if we’d all been in different places, then how would we have been?
Ok, I’ll start the story where I should. I’m Dr. Quinton Anders. I graduated the top of my class at Stanford. I have my doctorate in Chemistry, and I’m currently working on one in Physics, which was my minor in undergraduate. So yes, I’m smart. Even before the accident.
I got a job, working as a lab assistant to Dr. Stanley King, one of the world’s most celebrated applied physicists. I’m not trying to brag, but I’m so smart, he wanted me on the project, even though he knew it was out of my area of expertise, just because he wanted an extra mind that was on his level (his words, not mine).
I can’t go into specifics on the project, there’s a huge government payoff involved there, but suffice to say, we were playing with some radiation and things got a little… strange. Our equipment failed, so our resident engineer, Frank Davidson went into the testing room to figure out what had happened. Dr. King followed him, just because he wanted to make sure none of the experiment was mislaid. While they were inside, Frank’s wife, Taylor, entered the observation room, and began tapping on the glass to get his attention. She had brought his lunch with her or something.
Of course, that was the moment that the equipment malfunctioned catastrophically. Even in the observation room, behind the protective shields we had in place, we all took a strong dosage of radiation. Dr King and Frank took the brunt of it, but Taylor and I were hardly spared. We spent a week in hospital, which was a short stay, compared to the other two.
Dr King had third-degree burns all over his body, and had swelled to the point of deformity. During his recovery period, we discovered that the swelling wasn’t due to internal damage, but due to the fact that his body was changing. Over the course of a month, he grew a thick coating of hair over the top of his damaged skin, his entire body had seemingly shifted into that of a male silverback gorilla.
He awoke from his coma, and he took it hard. He had never been an attractive man, but at least he had been human. Now, for all intents and purposes, he was a monkey, although, thank god, he still had functioning vocal cords, and his brain had actually increased in capacity, as we discovered through a number of neurological scans.
Frank, on the other hand, looked as though he was unscathed. His body was perfectly intact, merely comatose. A CAT scan revealed that his brain had begun to swell, so a piece of his skull was removed, in order to relieve the pressure, but the brain kept swelling. Eventually, half of the back of his skull had to be removed, in order to free his brain, which had grown by at least half. He awoke days after Dr. King, and was obviously distressed by his predicament, but not as strongly as Dr King. Instead, he began trying to devise a way to contain his brain, since his skull didn’t seem to be up to the task anymore. More scans revealed that his swelled brain was not the symptom of a disease, but was actually a symptom of a marked increase in his intellect. Frank was, for all intents and purposes, the most intelligent man on the planet. Within days, we had his brain covered with a polymer casing, and he was back in the lab.
I began noticing a marked improvement in my own memory, it seemed I could recall everything I had read or witnessed since the accident. My mind had also been altered by the blast, although not as profoundly as Frank or Dr King. I had a photographic memory, which would prove quite useful when I decided to remain a part of Dr King’s team.
Last but not least, Taylor didn’t seem to have the increased mental faculties that seemed to be the signature of our mutations. Of course, that was until the day she threw a chair across the room with a thought. Rather than an increased memory, or capacity for reasoning, her mind had increased in sheer willpower. Truly, we were quite the formidable team.
Months later, Dr King officially changed his name to Dr Kong, reflecting on his new physique, and we became the Science Squad. We’re aware of how silly it sounds, but Dr Kong thinks it’s retro. We’ve designed things that Five Star Industries could only dream of, been places beyond our galaxy, and have seen dimensions beyond our wildest imaginations. Not bad for a few mutants.
Part Three
How many part time jobs have you had that resulted in you chained to a table, having dangerous, experimental surgeries performed on you?
If you answered anything above zero, welcome to my world.
You see, a few years ago, I was just your average university biology student. I had just finished my Bachelor degree, and was well on my way to a doctorate, but I needed a job. So I searched through the want ads, and found a job for a lab assistant.
I got the job without much of an issue, which, looking back, wasn’t that much of an achievement. You see, I turned up on the first day, and was pretty much roofied instantly. I woke up in a haze, inside a jail cell somewhere, pain wracking my body.
I spent the next few weeks under observation, as I was poked and prodded by dozens of faceless, interchangeable doctors. My strength was tested, my muscle structure, my reflexes. And I was testing off the scale. I had no idea what they’d done to me, but clearly it had worked. They seemed pretty excited, as they hauled me out into the black van, tossing me in with a dozen other bound and gagged prisoners.
I don’t know the other prisoners’ real names offhand, but I do know their other names. We had Black Widow, Wolf Spider, Tarantula, Jumping Spider and Brown Recluse, better known collectively as Arachnophobia, my spider-themed team of enemies. Then we had Rama, who now works as muscle-for-hire, and is damn good at it, seeing as he has the strength and horns of a water-buffalo. There was Killer, with his super-strength, lung capacity and fins for swimming. Gargoyle, with his huge bat-wings and claws, Rabies, with his sharp teeth, claws and heightened senses, Scarab, with his indestructible skin and Osprey, who is working for Hire-A-Hero nowadays, putting his wings, enhanced sight and strength to good use. Rounding out the prisoners was me, of course, The Gibbon.
Of course, you put that many supers in one small van, and you’re likely to get an escape. Once the heavies figured out what I was trying to coordinate hurriedly, using only grunts and gesturing my head, we managed to escape, by using their strength and mass to turn the van over, popping the back door off. That’s why I became a hero, because I freed those guys. If not for me, we’d all be locked up… wherever that van was taking us. We never found out. Instead, they’re on the streets, hurting innocents and destroying property.
So that’s why I spent the last few years fighting the same guys, week in, week out, just trying to get them locked up, and to stay there. The hardest part was juggling my social life, my studies, my hero life, and my new job. But it all paid off last year. I got my doctorate, and more importantly, I signed on with the Boomers. Things are certainly starting to look up.

It’s been eight months since I landed here. Eight months I’ve been in Africa, building schools, treating the sick, digging wells. Doing good work for the Lord. Helping people.
Because someone has to do i. In this world, where people fly in the skies, and lift buses, and are called heroes, one has to wonder if there is room for the everyday heroes. The teachers, the firemen and the police.
In a world where there are droughts killing millions, there is a woman in Brazil who uses her weather-controlling powers to help her commit robberies. In a world where crops are dying by the acre, there is a man in the United States who grows genetically altered ‘Plant Men’, to serve as his soldiers. There is something severely wrong with this world.
This is why I’m here, in Ethiopia. That’s why I’m dirty, tired and exhausted. Because if the ‘heroes’ can’t help these people, then who will? I may not have super-strength, but I can still push a wheelbarrow. I may not be able to make it rain, but I can dig a well. I can’t heal wounds, but I can stop them being infected, saving lives in my own way.
This is why the young man came to me, speaking of a ‘magic man’ in need of a healer. I am a trained paramedic, and have a reputation in this area for saving lives. If this shaman was sick, I had to help him.
The boy led me to a hut, and inside, lying on the bed, was the most enormous man I have ever seen. He would have towered over me, which is a feat in itself, as I stand at six feet, three inches. He was also very heavily muscled, like a body-builder.
What struck me as the strangest, however, was his skin. He wasn’t a local. His skin was as white as this page. His hair was blonde, and his eyes blue. Surely an outsider couldn’t have risen to such a rank as shaman in a tribe like this.
“You are Mr Jenkins?” The man asked, in a thick, Russian accent.
“Yes. Are you the shaman?” I asked, setting down my medical supply kit.
“Da. I am dying.” He replied.
“We’ll see about that.” I sat down next to him and began taking his pulse. His skin felt like a hotplate.
“No. This is the end. I will be dead within the hour, I can feel it.”
“Then why did you send for me? If you’re so resolved to die? I have work to do.”
I stood to leave, but he reached out and grabbed me, even in his ill health, his grip was very strong.
“I don’t want you for your medical skills; although the tribesmen tell me you are quite talented.” He said.
“Then what did you want me for?” I asked, sitting back down. ‘You should have sent for a priest to read you your Last Rites.”
He let go of my wrist. “I am not religious, and even if I was, I don’t deserve a place in your Heaven.”
“All of God’s children belong in Heaven.”
“I am no child of God. I am a monster.”
“Surely yo-“
“YOU KNOW NOTHING OF WHAT I HAVE DONE!” He thundered, sick as he was, he could still do this much.
“Perhaps you should explain yourself.” I tried to calm him.
“Yes… That is right… I will tell you the story.
“I was born in the USSR. I was raised, like those around me, to believe that Stalin’s teachings were good, and that religion, and the capitalist Americans were evil, just as the other Russian children were taught. I dedicated my life to the Motherland. I enlisted in the army, and was a good soldier. But not a good man. But I did not care, I did not truly know what I was doing, save that it was my duty, and that made it the right thing to do. My superiors saw this, and understood that I would be a powerful asset.”
“Every country needs good soldiers.” I said. “Your actions are not your fault.”
“I am not finished.” He insisted, before continuing.
“After the Second World War, Soviet troops found a number of treasures in a German military base, the Nazis had been stockpiling them. Among them was a weapon. The weapon seemed ordinary, well made, but had no special qualities. However, it was stored with other great magical artifacts, it must have been important. Stalin’s magicians spent years discovering its secret.”
“This weapon, this huge war-hammer, granted its wielder with a multitude of abilities. It was perhaps the most powerful weapon in the world. But nobody could activate it. It needed to be wielded by someone pure of heart. As the KGB could find no such men at the time, the hammer was put into storage.”
“But then they found you.” I said, spellbound by his story.
“Da. They thought that in me, they would have the perfect person to wield the hammer, for my heart and intentions were pure, even if the ends were not. So they ordered me to the Kremlin, and a General presented me with the hammer, telling me it was Mjolnir, the hammer once carried by the ancient god Thor. The moment I took the hammer, I felt it. The power. It was like nothing I have ever felt before. We discovered I could fly; I was also stronger than any man; on a good day, I could summon lightning. They paired me up with another man, who wielded a scythe the magicians believed had belonged to the Grim Reaper himself, and together we became the scourge of the Western world.”
“Oh my Lord… You’re The Hammer.” I exclaimed softly.
“Da, once I was. And my partner was The Sickle. We spent decades fighting your Western heroes. I killed dozens of men. Good men, or so I am led to believe. All in the name of my country.” The old man continued.
“Then one day, your hero, Uncle Sam, said something that made me doubt Stalin’s teachings. Told me of the atrocities committed in his name. My abilities began to fade. I could no longer wield Mjolnir’s power. I understood what I had done, and my heart was no longer pure.
“I fled, with the hammer, and hid in Western Germany for a time, before I moved here, to Africa. I wanted to do what you are doing now. Help people. Make up for my misdeeds. And I discovered that if my intentions were pure, I could once again wield the hammer’s power, or at least some of it. I called storms the likes of which these areas have never seen before. I made it rain for days at a time. I have spent the past five years breaking droughts all across this continent. I have given life and hope where there was none before. But it is not enough. I cannot forgive myself. And now I lay here dying.
“But what does that have to do with me?” I leaned in, hoping to learn some other secret.
“You have proven to be a good man. You are here helping people. You do not have super powers, yet you are still a hero.” He said, his voice beginning to lose some of its strength.
“I’m no hero, I’m just helping the people who need it. Doing the Lord’s work.”
“You are a hero to these people. Something I could never truly be. I had the support of an empire behind me, and the power of a god, and I was still not half the hero you are. A simple missionary.”
“You have saved thousands here, if not millions.” I tried to argue, but The Hammer just shook his head.
“I am beyond redemption. I am about to leave this mortal life, but not without one more act, to atone for what I have done. Open the trunk at the foot of my bed, Mr Jenkins.”
I looked around and found a simple, wooden trunk. I pulled the lid up, and gasped at what I saw inside.
An iron handle, with shapes of lightning bolts carved along its length, and a stone head, adorned in the most intricate golden patterns I have ever seen. Mjolnir, the legendary hammer of Thor.
“When I die, my bond to Mjolnir will be gone.” The Hammer coughed. “Someone must take my place. Someone must help these people, and people everywhere. You have proven to have the purest of hearts. You will wield power from this hammer greater than my own. You will become the Earth’s greatest hero.”
I broke my gaze on the hammer to stare at him in disbelief. “No, I can’t. I’m not a hero.” I insisted.
“You mst. You know it in your heart. You know the good you can do with that power. You know it’s a task that someone must do. You know it is your duty.”
“But what if I can’t?”
“You can. If a devil like me can wield the sacred hammer, then a saint such as you can certainly call the power.”
I bowed my head in acceptance. “We shall see.”
He coughed again. “The time is upon me William…” The giant’s voice was wavering.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, as his breathing became more laboured. I felt the life slip away from him, as his heart stopped beating.
The room was completely silent, as I closed his eyes and raised the sheet over his head. I( paused and reflected on his story for a moment. Could I truly wield that kind of power? Could I save the world?
There was only one way to find out. I took the hammer from the trunk, and stepped outside the hut. I could feel the power surging through it, fighting to get out. Suddenly I knew what to do.
I raised Mjolnir in the air, and a shiver of ecstasy ran down my spine. I could feel strength filling my muscles. A bolt of lightning rocketed down from the clear sky, striking the hammer and I felt it engulf my entire body.
I was completely in shock. The power surging through my body, through my soul, it was almost unbearable. I couldn’t believe it.
I spent a moment wondering just what I had gotten myself into, what I was going to do with this newfound strength. Would I continue to help starving people in third-world countries? Or was I now laden with responsibility for all of God’s children? Should I fight the evil in the world? Or just clean up after it?
I knelt down and began to pray for an answer, and suddenly I realised.
I took off into the air, the wind blowing in my face, the ground far below me, but I had no time to enjoy the feeling. There was work to be done.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe I ever wanted to do anything else. Until the day I turned 18, I thought the greatest moment of my life would be when I saw Bob Dylan plug in for the first time at the Newport Folk Festival.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
<><><>
I grew up wanting to be a musician. I wanted to be Joan Baez, or the female Elvis. I wasn’t picky. I just wanted to be a part of it. I just wanted to get out of my father’s shadow.
I went to protests, rock concerts, anything to rebel against my father, but no matter what I did, there was no escaping destiny.
I never gained weight, I hardly got sick and I was the very definition of a fresh-faced American girl. My father’s blood ran true in my veins. I had inherited his gift.
I was every bit the super-soldier my father was. It seemed his name wasn’t the only thing he passed down to me.
There’s just something about us Sam Carpenters.
<><><>
I never had any intention of following in his footsteps. He was a “product of the fascist war-machine”, part of the war in Vietnam. I didn’t want any of it.
It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t get a choice. It never occurred to me that I’d be right in the middle of it, whether I liked it or not. I just wouldn’t be fighting the same people he was.
<><><>
It started simple. We were in day fifteen of our picket line, outside a lab in Washington DC, where experiments were performed on animals, building better biological weapons or some such.
The others were getting tired; we’d been sleeping on the pavement outside the building, and it was taking its toll. On the other hand, I was still as fresh as I had been on the first day. Bonus points for Project Spartan, I guess.
Lucky for all of us too, because otherwise, we’d probably all have been hospitalised, or worse.
You see, it was on that fateful night that one of the scientists decided he was tired of us protesters, and he was tired of the standard testing procedure. He knew he had created a method of creating new super-soldiers, he didn’t want to spend another six months in clinical trials with rats and bunnies. He wanted to show the world now, before someone beat him to it.
So he subjected himself to the treatment. Of course, he didn’t succeed. Everyone knows there are only three super-soldiers in the world today, and we’re all Carpenters.
Granted, his treatment did make him stronger. Faster too. The doctors told us later that he’d managed to infect himself with a virus that kept his adrenaline pumping, bringing himself to the peak of his own condition, ignoring pain, and fighting like a madman.
He descended on us like a tornado, frothing at the mouth and throwing punches everywhere he could. He took down four of my fellow protesters before I got in his way. I even managed to block a few shots, before he knocked me on my ass. I wasn’t in peak condition, I was as fit as I could be without really exercising. He was scary-strong, and as fast as me.
Lucky I knew how to even the odds.
I grabbed one of our protest signs, and tore the sign from the post. Not quite a practice bo staff, but it would do.
He had his back turned on me, but I had no time to waste on honour. I struck him between the shoulders, eliciting a roar from him. He spun to face me, and I followed up with another shot to the face, before planting the end of the stick in the ground and swinging around it, kicking him directly in the temple, staggering him.
He charged forward and caught me in a tackle, sending the two of us crashing to the ground. Lucky for me, my dad had taught me enough wrestling to get the upper hand, planting myself over his chest, pinning him to the ground. I then proceeded to beat him into unconsciousness.
It wouldn’t be the last time I ran into him, although the next time he was calling himself Dr Jekyll, and he had improved his virus, but that’s a story for another time.
<><><>
After we gave our statements to the police, and the paramedics had cleaned us up, we kept protesting. Two days later, the lab was shut down. It’s amazing what bad publicity will do to change someone’s mind.
The others went home and rested up, an anti-war protest was starting the next day, but I didn’t go. I had a taste. I had saved people. I knew I had to do more. I couldn’t just sit idly by while people hurt other people. I had to become a symbol, just like my father. I had to change the world, for the better. I couldn’t become a symbol for the government, of course, they were doing so much evil in the world at the time. I had to stand alone. I had to stand for more than policies and speeches.
I had to stand for the founding fathers, for every man, woman and child. I had to stand for America. I had to stand for freedom and justice. I had to stand for Liberty.
And just like that, Miss Liberty was born. I dressed in the stars and stripes, just like dad. Within a few months, I was in real fighting condition. I stood up for the country, while dad fought for it overseas. We had different views, we fought in different ways, but we were fighting the same fight.
I was truly my father’s daughter, and suddenly it didn’t matter. I understood why he did what he did. I didn’t have to agree with his political views, or anything else. I knew why he fought. The same reason I did.
Because someone has to. Someone has to stand up for the little guy. Someone has to fight for justice. Someone has to protect freedom. It’s those foundations that our country was built on.
And if you can make a difference, then there is no excuse to sit idly by, and watch as both inside and outside forces try to take that away. It is our responsibility to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

The Freak paced up and down. “Are you sure we can do this?” He asked.
“Of course we can. Gauntlet said he wanted to come to New York too, and I’ve already talked it over with Ralph. You guys can move out here, and I’m going to form the East Coast branch of the Boomers.” Talon said, her voice carried across the country by telephone line.
“I just feel like we’d be abandoning him.” The Freak said. “I mean, once the two of us are gone, all he’ll have will be Junker and Statuesque.”
“That’s three on each coast. We’re the Boomers, we’ve never had trouble recruiting. You guys come up here, and he’ll have heroes knocking his door down. Just like I will. I’ve already got a couple of people I want to look at, but I want your opinion on them.” Talon said.
“My opinion? Why mine? It’s your team.” The Freak asked.
“Because you’ve been a Boomer as long as there have been Boomers.” Talon said.
“Not quite. I joined a few months after the team started.” The Freak corrected.
“Whatever. Anyway, you know what it takes to be a Boomer, and I need you here. I need someone with the experience, and the knowledge. Short of Ralph, I can’t think of anyone better.” Talon said.
“And Ralph would never leave LA. I know… Fine. I’m in. Have you talked to Gauntlet?” The Freak asked.
“He was waiting to see if you were ok with it. I swear Tristan worships the ground you walk on.” Talon said.
“Hey, I’ve been a Boomer since there were Boomers, there’s a lot to worship.” The Freak joked.
“With the ego to match.” Talon teased.
<><><>
“Ok guys, welcome to the new Boom Room.” Talon said, gesturing to the giant gymnasium-like structure surrounding them. “Those walls are so thick, nothing short of a military air strike will even crack them. We’ve got the most heavy-duty workout equipment in the world, including an actual car-crusher for The Freak and Gauntlet, and Emerald, if you think you can handle it.”
“This crap must have cost a hell of a lot.” Jet Black said. “But where do I get to train?”
“It cost a small fortune, but we have sponsors to deal with that. As for your training…” Talon smiled. “Computer, flight training pattern. Randomise.” Talon ordered.
Above her head, holographic rings appeared in the air. “I’ve noticed your handling could use work. We’ll focus on that before anything else.” Talon said.
“Fo’ sho’.” Jet Black said.
“But, first thing’s first.” Talon said. “I wanted to give these two a chance to see how good you two are.”
“We helped build the Boomers’ name. If we’re going to be the East Coast team, you’ve got a standard to live up to.” The Freak said. “So we’ve devised a test.”
“A test? What is this bull? Talon said we were on the team!” Jet Black said.
“Calm down kid, you’ve impressed her, but we’re not so easy to impress. So this is how it’s going to be. We’re going to have a little sparring match. The Freak and I against the three of you. We’ll let you know if we’re impressed.” Gauntlet said.
“Sounds reasonable.” Emerald said. “It is your legacy.”
“Alright, let’s smoke these guys!” Jet Black said.
“Sounds like you’re ready.” The Freak said. “Computer: Three second count down.”
Three tones rang clearly through the Boom Room, followed by a shrill whistle.
“Emerald, your powers are pretty close to Gauntlet’s. Use that to your advantage, take it to the sky and keep him fighting.” Talon ordered. “Jet Black, you can run rings around The Freak, keep him on his toes.”
“Damn right, I’ll show him what I can do!” Jet Black said, as he began running laps of the room.
“Jet, hit and run attacks. I know what you’re planning, and you’re just going to hurt yourself.” Talon ordered, as she hit The Freak with a flashbomb.
“This guy dissed me. I’m taking him down.” Jet Black said, as he built up speed.
“This is going to be easier than I thought.” The Freak said, regardless of his inability to see.
“I’m not so sure.” Gauntlet replied, as he used the blue energy his gloves allowed him to wield to block Emerald’s blasts. “This one is strong.”
“Thank you.” Emerald said, a slight blush appearing on her face, as she started to attack harder.
“You’re welcome.” Gauntlet said, as he amped up his shields, before beginning his own attack.
Back on the ground, Jet Black had reached his top speed, and turned towards The Freak. He was a blur, as he streaked towards the half-blind stone man. He was less of a blur as he bounced off, screaming about his broken arm.
“Told you so. Now get moving before he hits you for real.” Talon ordered, as she threw a set of bolas at The Freak’s legs, tangling him up in a thin, hyper-tensile cable.
“Really Maggie? My legs? That’s just low.” The Freak taunted, as he prepared for the inevitable attack.
“We all know you’re far too strong for me to beat. Especially Jet over there.” Talon pointed at the speedster, who was nursing his arm in a far corner. “Which is why I’m going to the second part of my plan…”
“Second part?” The Freak asked.
“Damn right. Jet! Hit Gauntlet!” Talon ordered, and the speedster complied, taking off and tackling the hero in midair, with most of the momentum of a small car on a highway. Gauntlet didn’t have time to defend himself, focussing all of his energy on Emerald, and found himself pinned against the roof.
“And Emerald, time to knock The Freak down. Hit him with everything you’ve got.” Talon ordered.
“A-are you sure?” Emerald asked.
“I saw you fighting Terror, I know what you can do. Trust me, Eugene can take it.” Talon said.
“Yes ma’am.” Emerald said, as she fired a blast of green energy at the stone hero, knocking him to the ground.
“I think you’ve seen enough.” Talon said, as she untangled the cable around her teammate’s legs.
“I have. If Jet Black can learn to follow orders, I think we’ve got a team on our hands.” The Freak said.
“Nice work with the switcheroo too kid. Pure Blackbird right there, you’ve learned from the best.” Gauntlet added, as he drifted down to the ground, followed closely by Jet Black.
An alarm sounded, followed closely by the audio track from a news report.
“… Radon has demanded that the people of New York pay him ten million dollars, or he will not release the island of Manhattan from under his forcefield.” The newscaster said.
“Well, time for a trial by fire… Jet, you think you can go into battle like that?” Talon asked.
“I heal quick.” Jet Black said, prodding the part of his arm where his bone had been broken, and wincing slightly. “It’ll be fine by the time we find that psycho.”
“Good to hear. Gauntlet, tell me you remember how to fly the Sonic Boom.” Talon asked.
“Damn straight. I don’t let Junker fly it all the time. Do you have one of those too?” Gauntlet asked.
“I’ve got everything they’ve got on the Left Coast, except for Blackbird’s Nest, and I’m working on copying that for myself.” Talon said.
“’Talon’s Grip’ has a nice ring to it.” The Freak said.
“We’ll worry about that later. Right now… It’s BOOM TIME!” Talon said.
<><><>
“As far as the eye can see, the entire city is under my cover! Nothing comes in, and nothing comes out!” Radon gloated to the camera in the news helicopter. “Where are you heroes now!?”
All of the island of Manhattan was under the cover of a translucent green shell, which seemed to be emanating from the large piece of machinery sitting behind Radon.
“Liberty Force are all the way in Washington, and The Boomers are in Los Angeles. New York is defenceless!” Radon continued.
“Didn’t you hear, cracker? We’re a franchise now!” Jet Black crashed into Radon, sending the seasoned supervillain tumbling across the rooftop, tangled up with the young African-American hero. Moments later, Jet Black was sent hurtling through the air by a blast from Radon.
“What is the meaning of this!?” Radon demanded, as he stood back up, to see the Sonic Boom II floating above his rooftop, Gauntlet and Emerald floating down, carrying The Freak and Talon respectively.
“You’re hardly new in town, so I know you know who Emerald and I are.” Talon said. “You might have heard of my friends too. The Freak, founding member of the Boomers, and Gauntlet, the guy who beat Wild single-handedly.”
“That may be too many names for you to remember, so how about we just stick with ‘East Coast Boomers’?” Jet Black flew up to rejoin his teammates.
“Hate to be obvious, but the machine probably powers the forcefield, so Freak, can you deal with it?” Talon asked.
“Got it.” The Freak replied, running forward.
“NO!” Radon shouted, unleashing a blast that knocked The Freak tumbling across the roof, almost falling off the edge.
“Whoa!” Emerald and Gauntlet said.
“Radon is stronger than either of you.” Talon warned. “But I need you two to block his attacks for us.”
“You got it kid.” Gauntlet said, followed by a quiet “Yes ma’am.” From Emerald.
“You fools think you can defeat me!?” Radon demanded, as he fired at Talon.
“Yeah. We’re going to pulverise you.” Talon replied, as a combined blue and green blast deflected the shot, dispersing the energy before it could reach the former sidekick.
“You? You don’t have any powers!” Radon cackled.
“No, but I’m a nice distraction.” Talon replied, as Jet Black streaked towards the villain.
“I’m not falling for his sneak attacks again.” Radon said, as a forcefield surrounded him, sending Jet Black bouncing back across the rooftop.
“Hit him with everything you’ve got!” Talon ordered, as she threw a flashbomb at the villain, blinding him.
Emerald and Gauntlet’s combined blast did little to weaken Radon’s forcefield, but it didn’t matter, The Freak was back on his feet, the rocky veteran hitting the shield with a shoulder tackle, followed by another strike by Jet Black. The shield dropped for a moment, and Talon was ready with two well-placed karate chops, rendering the villain unconscious.
“Now, as I was saying earlier… Freak, will you do the honours?” Talon asked.
“Don’t mind if I do.” The Freak said, as he pulled back his fist and punched Radon’s forcefield machine, tearing through the transistors and wires, leaving it sparking, as the forcefield surrounding Manhattan faded away.
“Well, I think we did alright.” Gauntlet said.
“So do they.” Emerald pointed down to the ground, where a cheering crowd had amassed.
“Talon! Is what you said true?” A reporter had jumped out of the news helicopter, followed closely by a camera man. “Have you formed the East Coast Boomers?”
Talon smiled. “I’ve spoken with the Blackbird, and he agrees with me. One Boomers team isn’t enough. So we’ve split our resources, and we’ve made new additions to our teams. We’re stronger now than ever before. So to answer your question: Yes. This is the East Coast Boomers.”

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of the show.” I said, and the crowd erupted.
As I rushed down the stairs, I flashed the Andrews Sisters a smile. Usually I’d have stopped for a chat, but I was overdue elsewhere. I had a real mission.
I was supposed to be in the air already, but I had told the brass that I wasn’t going to miss the USO show. We’d made a promise to those boys, and I wasn’t about to break it.
As I approached the runway, I was approached by one of General Blaine’s lackeys, I can’t remember his name, by this point they were all interchangeable. He directed me to my plane, which was easy, it was the only one with the engine running. I swear, these guys treat me like I’m an idiot, like they’re worried I’ll make a mistake, and suddenly they won’t have a Super Soldier anymore.
Intel discovered a secret Nazi base in the English Channel. Apparently one of their scientists had taken residence in an ancient castle. I think I’ve spent more time in castles these past few months than Merlin himself. We had no idea what was going on there, but we knew it couldn’t be good.
Rather than just bomb them, they decided it would be better if I took a look around, to see if they had anything that was truly dangerous. Something that they could steal, of course.
So instead, I was to parachute onto the island under cover of darkness, infiltrate the castle, see exactly what they were doing there, and assess the situation. Simple. Except the costume that the top brass insisted I wear wasn’t exactly made for a stealth operation.
Still orders were orders, and the costume had lived up to their claims of bullet-proofing. If worst came to worst, I’d be meeting my pick-up early. A few dozen Krauts were nothing I couldn’t hold off.
<><><>
Two hours later, I was plummeting through the air towards the island. I waited for the perfect moment and released my parachute, slowing my descent. I sailed downwards until I landed softly on the ground. I released my parachute and wrapped it up tightly. The last thing I needed was a guard finding it lying on the ground. I stashed it in some bushes, and started moving towards the castle.
The guards were laying low, this was a secret operation, they couldn’t allow themselves to be spotted from the air. I figured I had an easy run, so long as I kept low. The Nazis weren’t stupid, they’d have watchers in the castle.
Of course, I had to run into the same guards I was hiding the parachute from. It was a rookie mistake, and as soon as they saw me, they opened fire. I returned fire with my sidearm, and dispatched the four of them quickly, but it was too late. A siren went off in the castle, and I could see the light from dozens of lanterns moving around inside.
I sprinted for the castle, no use hiding now. Bullets whizzed by, but I just ducked my head down and kept running. The gateway opened, and I could see a crowd of soldiers. Idiots, they were just giving me a way in. Before that, I had every intention of scaling the walls, ignoring the shots, but they were making it easy.
From the middle, one of the soldiers lifted something over his shoulder. Too late I realised that it looked like an elongated mortar tube. Too late to dodge out of the way, as it fired a projectile at me. Luckily, it hit two feet to the side of me, exploding in the ground, sending me tumbling to the side, stunned and semi-conscious, instead of exploding inside me, sending me spraying across the landscape.
I could hardly move, as the Nazis lifted me from the ground. I couldn’t struggle, as they dragged me into the castle. They dragged me into the courtyard while I was seeing stars. They chained me to the ground, as the main doors opened. Through it stepped a pair of Nazi soldiers, followed by a small, thin man in a white coat. The man’s face was gleeful, but I could see evil behind his glasses, in those cold blue eyes.
“Ah, Onkel Sam. I was wondering when I would finally meet you.” He said, his thick German accent obvious. “I don’t think you understand just how much Mein Fuhrer wants to meet you.”
“Is that so?” I asked. “I hope he knows that the meeting would be painful. For him.”
“I do not think you are in any position to be making threats. I have captured you, and you will be put on the very next U-Boat to the Fatherland. I trust you liked my Feuerstock?” The man continued.
“It would be far more impressive if your men could aim it.” I taunted.
“You dare insult the great Doctor Von Faber!? I will show you why you should fear me.” He said. “Unchain him!”
The guards rushed forward and unchained me, instead binding me behind my back with rope.
“Bring him to the tower!” Dr Von Faber ordered, marching ahead of us, his personal guards forming a wall between us.
Two guards dragged me along, making sure I hit every bump on the ground, and every step on the way up. I was going to enjoy my escape, and these two would be the first I hit, followed closely by the good Doctor.
“You see, Onkel Sam, that fool Von Braun is tinkering with his A-series of rockets, but I am the true genius of the Third Reich. I will see England burn.” Dr Von Faber said.
“I’d like to see you try.” I said.
The Doctor stopped and turned. “And you will. I think it’s time we displayed the might of my Alpha-Class rocket. The Fuhrer will be pleased when London burns; and I hand him one of his most wanted prisoners.”
The door in front of him opened, and we went through. In the room was a giant… I don’t even know what to call it. It was at least twenty feet tall, and wider around than a man. It was pointed at one end, and had fins at the bottom.
“I see you are impressed.” Dr Von Faber said. “This is the prototype of my Alpha-One. It will cross the Channel with ease, and then those British dogs will not know what has hit them.”
Suddenly the roof opened, and the Alpha-One began to shudder, as smoke built at the base.
“Sorry Doctor, that’s not going to happen. And you’ll have to send your Fuhrer my regards. Tell him I’ll be in Berlin before the year is over.” I said, as I broke free of my bonds and punched the two guards, knocking them out.
The rocket began taking off, so I ran and leapt onto the side. Within moments, we were airborne, high above the castle.
It took all my strength to pry a panel off the side of the rocket, but it came loose. I began tearing out wires, as the sparks flew all around me.
I kicked out at the fin nearest to me, and the rocket spun around, pointing back at the island. I let go of the rocket, and dropped into the ocean like a pin.
I surfaced in time to see the entire island burst into flames, as the rocket exploded. I watched as those Krauts burned, but I took no joy in it. It was a horrible way to die, and no-one deserved it. Even the Doctor, who had every intention of doing the same thing to the entire city of London.
“Nice work there.”
I looked up and saw a man floating in the air above me. I froze, and almost drowned in the process.
As I resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, the man laughed. “I get that a lot. Captain Thomas Cutliff.” He extended a hand. “They call me The American Eagle.”
“That explains the wings.” I grinned, shaking his hand. “I’m Major Sam Carpenter. Uncle Sam, I guess.”
“Well, I’m your ride out of here.” The Eagle said, as he reached down and grabbed me by the armpits.
“You’re going to carry me to England like this?” I asked, as we took off.
“No, I wouldn’t wish that upon the Fuhrer himself.” The Eagle laughed again. “There’s a boat about a mile away, we didn’t want to get too close to the island.”
“So, are you from the new Project Spartan?” I asked.
“No. I’ve known I can fly since I was about fifteen. I was serving in Guadalcanal a few months ago, the Japs surprised us. My buddy got hit bad, so I flew him out of there. Word got up to the brass quickly, and suddenly, I was The American Eagle. They gave me this costume and everything. Don’t tell them, but I like the wings… Not sure I trust myself up high.” He chuckled. “They say it’s symbolic, I say it’s a parachute.”
“I know that feeling. I’m a beacon on the battlefield, but half this costume is armour. They don’t want to risk us.” I said.
“We’re both one of a kind. I hear there are more out there. A guy they call Sherman, he can turn his whole body into steel.” The Eagle said.
“Then what do they need us for? He should have torn a line straight through to Berlin by now.” I said.
“The Krauts have worse.” The Eagle said simply.
I thought back to my fight against the troll and knew that he was right.
It was going to be a long war.

“Captain Chambers, Team One is in place, over.”
“Team Two is in place, over.”
“Team Three is… I think we’re lost. Over.”
“Corporal Stein? Is this some kind of joke? Over.”
“No Captain Chambers, Clayman has no idea how to read a map, over.”
Chambers buried his face in his hand. “Carpenter?”
I laughed. “I’ll find them.” And with that, I disappeared into the woods.
<><><>
Ten minutes behind schedule, we were on our way. We’d received orders from Allied Command that morning. The Germans had captured a British officer, one Colonel Aurelia, and were holding him in an old castle in the Black Forest. Naturally, it was our job to rescue him.
The plan was simple. Team One was lead by Lieutenant Morris, the man with the most experience in the Company, besides Captain Chambers, of course. Half the company was under his command, they were going to attack the castle head-on, drawing attention towards the front side.
Team Two was lead by Sergeant Reynolds, and was the next biggest group. They were Team One’s rear guard, keeping an escape route open, whilst hitting the castle with mortars, and providing cover fire.
Team Three were holding my escape route, ready in case I needed to fight my way out of the castle.
Team Four consisted of myself, Captain Chambers, and Privates Johnson and Adams. We were going to be sneaking through a long-forgotten secret passageway, into the very heart of the castle. While Morris’ team distracted the Nazis, we were going to have free run of the castle, and were going to find Colonel Aurelia.
Captain Chambers waited until the first mortar hit before giving us the order to move, and we ran along the tunnel. I took point of course, I was the fastest, best trained and most resilient, so if something was ahead, I was the one who was most likely to beat it in a fight. Over the past six months, we had learned to read each other perfectly. Chambers’ 300 Spartans, as we called ourselves, were the most highly trained unit in the military, and I was their secret weapon.
The only successful product of Project Spartan. The only American Super Soldier. I had been altered by chemicals and radiation until I was the perfect human being. Unfortunately, a Nazi spy destroyed all the laboratories and murdered the scientists who had made me what I was, the secret was lost. There were rumours that the project had been restarted from scratch, but we had no solid facts. For now, I was the only one.
We met no resistance all the way through the tunnel, but we remained on our toes. We weren’t going to let the Krauts get the drop on us. We reached the end, where the only way out was a trapdoor in the roof. I signalled to Johnson to boost me up, and he complied holding me up as I struggled to open the trapdoor.
I heard the Germans before I saw them, they were waiting behind the trapdoor. They didn’t get time to do much besides shout, as I vaulted through the opening and spun to face them, a spray of bullets killing the two guards.
I waited a moment to make sure more Germans weren’t going to follow the sound of gunfire. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and if there was, they must have assumed the gunfire was coming from the battle raging on their doorstep. I reached through the trapdoor and grabbed Johnson around the forearm, lifting him from the hole. Next came Captain Chambers, and finally Adams.
“British intelligence suggests they’ll be keeping him here, in the lower levels. There is a dungeon area to the west, which is our best bet. Let’s go.” Chambers said, pointing at the door.
Adams and Johnson took up position on either side of the door, as I kicked it open.
Another pair of Germans didn’t know what hit them, as Adams opened fire. “Damn Krauts.” Adams said. “Which way Captain?”
“West.” Chambers growled, as Adams looked at him blankly.
I laughed, before pointing to our right. “Even I have trouble keeping track of directions down here sir, give him a break.” I said.
“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’?” Chambers’ mood didn’t seem to be improving. Something wasn’t right.
“Captain, is there something about this mission we should know?” I asked.
“Carpenter, the sooner we get out of here, the better. Just trust me on that one.” Chambers replied.
I nodded, before running down the passageway, the rest of the squad close behind. Suddenly we heard shouts from the passageway behind us, as bullets began to fly past us.
“We’ve got company!” Adams shouted, as we took cover in the nearest doorway.
“No shit!” Johnson shouted, as he returned fire. There were dozens of Germans flooding the passageway.
“Carpenter, we’ll hold them off. You keep going. We need to get Aurelia out of here.” Chambers ordered.
I didn’t hesitate, as I charged out of cover and continued down the passageway at top speed, bullets whizzing past me, making sparks fly as they ricocheted off the stone floor and walls.
Within seconds, I had rounded the corner.
And come face to face with the ugliest thing I have ever seen.
It stood at around ten feet tall, its head almost scraped the ceiling. It was shaped like a man, but bigger, bulkier. And its face… Dripping jaw, a long, hooked nose… It was disgusting.
It roared and took one swipe at me. I barely had time to roll with the blow, as he drove me into the wall. I saw stars for a moment, and didn’t react to the next blow, as it hit me in the midsection, sending me stumbling back.
It roared and beat its hands on its chest. I guess it thought it had won. Well, I was about to show it a thing or two. In moments, I was on my feet, rifle in hand. I opened fire at the beast, but it ignored the bullets that ripped through its torso.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when the wounds began to seal themselves up. Just what the hell was I fighting?
The creature charged at me, but I managed to slide between its legs, causing it to stumble into the wall, breaking a large chunk out of the wooden supports. I held my breath, but the roof didn’t cave in. I guess those Germans really knew how to build to last.
As the beast turned itself around to face me again, I picked up the piece of wood it had broken free. It was thicker and heavier than the staves I was used to, but it would serve me nicely. I swung as hard as I could, and connected with its head. It took a step back. So the thing could feel pain. I caught him again with my backswing. I saw his eyes waver for a moment. That one had taken something out of him. I followed up with three strikes directly between the eyes. The behemoth toppled to the ground, its breathing slowed. It was unconscious.
I dropped my makeshift weapon and continued on to the doorway at the end of the passageway. I pushed it open slowly. In the room was a man, clad only in his briefs, manacled to the wall. He looked as though he was in his seventies, with a bushy white beard and matching hair.
“Who are you boy? What do you want?” He asked me, his thick British accent was obvious.
“Colonel Aurelia?” I asked.
The man chuckled. “Someone did their research. You could call me that boy, but that’s a name I haven’t used in centuries.”
“Centuries sir?” I asked.
“Don’t you be getting sceptical boy, you just fought a troll, and if I’m not mistaken, that means you’re the American champion I read in the stars.” He continued.
“What are you talking about?” I was still completely confused.
“Boy, I’m Merlin.”
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if he was mad, or if he was the genuine article.
“Yes boy, everyone has that reaction the first time. It took me weeks to convince the brass that I was really who I am, and that they needed me to win this damn war.” The prisoner continued.
“If you’re Merlin… Then why haven’t we won the war? Why are you chained to the wall of some German castle?” I asked.
“I’m not the only wizard in the world. I might just be the strongest, but Germany beats me for sheer numbers. That’s why we haven’t won the war yet. As for why I’m here? They caught me by surprise, that damned Black Forest Witch is sneaky when she wants to be. And these manacles are hexed. I can’t use any magic while I’m bound.” Merlin said. “Well boy, are you here to free me or what?”
I nodded and removed my bayonet from its pocket, before using it to pry Merlin’s restraints open.
“Thank you boy, those chafe terribly.” He said, rubbing his wrists. “Now, did you have any other men with you?”
“They’re around the corner, we ran into Germans just before I reached the… troll…” I explained.
“We’d best go save them then. I trust you set the troll on fire to counter its regenerative abilities?” Merlin asked.
I opened the door, and found the troll bellowing at me.
“Amateurs.” Merlin said, as he waved his hand at the troll. “Fire.”
The troll burst into flames, and ran screaming down the corridor.
“No magic words?” I asked.
“The words don’t matter, so long as the mind is focused towards a goal. I usually use Latin or Ancient Celtic or something to look impressive, but sometimes the simple things are the easiest.” Merlin explained, as we continued along the corridor. “Some magicians have a mental block that requires them to use words they don’t really understand, because they think the magic won’t work otherwise. I got over that a long, long time ago.”
We rounded the corner and found Johnson bandaging his own leg, as Chambers and Adams fired on the last three Krauts.
“Sam, you’ve got the prisoner?” Chambers asked, without even turning around. I swear, sometimes I forget just which one of us is the super soldier.
“You got it Captain Chambers. Let’s get the hell out of here.” I said.
“Merlin, can you teleport?” Chambers asked. It didn’t occur to me until much later that he already knew who our guest was.
“I’m freed of my magical restraints, so yes.” Merlin replied, as he began to wave his hands.
Moments later, we were at the other end of the tunnel, in the middle of the woods.
<><><>
I stood in front of the assembled Generals. “Sir?” I asked.
“You heard me, Major.” General Blaine said. “You’re being promoted, and you’re being taken away from the Spartans.”
“But why sir? Surely I can do more with a full company?”
“I assume you’ve heard by now what the English have done?” Blaine asked.
“Of course, the rumours say that Merlin has awakened the reincarnations of King Arthur and his Knights, and is in the process of making something even greater.”
“Those rumours are true. Germany isn’t without its own powerful individuals either. The thing that unites them all is that they are using theirs as symbols. Britain is protected by Merlin and King Arthur, it raises morale, which raises enlistment. Germany is doing the same with their Ubermensch. We need you to become our symbol. You have to be our recruitment tool, our protector, our leader.”
“I’m just a soldier sir.”
Blaine handed me a large package. “Open it.”
I complied, tearing through the brown paper that wrapped it. “Sir?”
“That’s what you’ll be wearing soldier. The red, white and blue.”
“Uh… It’s a little bright to be wearing in a war zone, isn’t it sir? I’ll be a target.”
“You won’t be a target, you’ll be a beacon. See the vest? It’s an experimental compound that can stop bullets. Even if they do shoot you, it won’t matter.” As the general spoke, I felt the blue vest. It certainly didn’t feel like much. “And you’ve got a helmet there.” I lifted the red helmet, it certainly didn’t feel like it would stop much, although it did cover half my face, which was more than most soldiers could say.
“Sir, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure Carpenter. You’re going to be the man who wins us a war. You’re going to be the greatest hero of all time. So do us proud, because you’re all we’ve got. Can you be the man we need?”
“Yes sir!” I saluted.
“Good, now go suit up, you’ll be parachuting into France in a few hours.”
“Yes sir.” I moved to leave.
“One more thing, Major Carpenter.”
I stopped. “Sir?”
“While you’re wearing that uniform, you’re no longer Major Samuel Carpenter of the United States Army, do you understand?”
“Then who am I?” I asked, puzzled.
“You’re our symbol, boy. You’re Uncle Sam.”

On my eighteenth birthday, I marched down to the recruitment office in Pittsburgh. I had no doubt in my mind as to what I was going to do with my life. I signed my life away to the US Army, and I never looked back.

It was July 4^th, 1937. I had just graduated from high school. My parents had hoped for me to go to college, and make something of my life. My father had spent his life in the steel mills, he wanted more for me. When he found out I had enlisted, he was on the verge of disowning me. My mother talked him down, thankfully.

I had been a star football player in high school; college scholarships were available to me. I had the option to go learn to be an accountant or a lawyer. Instead, I chose to serve and defend my country, and the ideals it stood for.

All we ever heard about in those days was the mess that was being cooked up in Europe. The Nazis in Germany, the Fascists in Italy, not to mention the Russkies. It was like a boiler waiting to explode. Word on the street was, as soon as it exploded, we were in for another Great War. I wanted to do whatever I could to stop those bastards from winning. I had to stop the Germans, or the Italians, or the Soviets. Whatever it took.

They sent me to Fort Meade for basic training. It was, at that time, the most harrowing experience of my entire life. I had never worked so hard or been pushed so far. I thought I was physically fit when I went in there, but they ran me ragged. I thought it would never end, but I persevered. This was necessary. I had to be my best. Sergeant Chambers was my C.O. throughout basic. Any time I wavered, any time I faltered, he was right there behind me, barking orders, giving me more work. Failure was not an option.

My company completed basic training. Some of the others had given up, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, but most of us made it through. They decided to station us at Fort Bragg in South Carolina, where we finished out our first year in the Army.

We had a lot of free time in those days, before the war. We spent a lot of time in Fayetteville, getting drunk and spending time with the ladies. When we were on base, we trained, and we worked out. We made everything into a competition. Who could lift the most, who was the best shot, who was the best in a foot race. I was the fastest man on base, probably the fastest man in North Carolina at the time. But I still wasn’t good enough. We all kept pushing ourselves. To be our best. Because our country deserved the best.

<><><>

I’ll never forget the day I saw Sergeant Chambers again. He showed up on base in the summer of 1938. He was rushed into the Colonel’s office before any of us could get a greeting in. Reynolds noticed that he’d been promoted. Reynolds always had the best eyes, probably why he became a sniper. “He’s got a gold bar. Second Lieutenant.” Reynolds said.

I whistled in appreciation. He’d been promoted to a commissioned officer. That was practically unheard of. “Wonder what he did to get that.” I said.

“Kissed someone’s ass.” Dawkins said, to a chuckle from those assembled.

We milled around, looking busy, for what must have been an hour, before Lieutenant Chambers came out of the Colonel’s office.

“What are you idiots doing?” He barked.

“Waiting to welcome you to Fort Bragg sir.” I said, snapping off a salute.

“And offering you congratulations on your promotion, sir.” Reynolds added.

“I don’t recall training any of you sissies to be kiss-asses.” Chambers barked.

“Sir, no sir!” We all saluted again.

“And stop it with that sir crap. I still work for a living.” Chambers added.

“Yes Serg- Lieutenant.” I said.

“I’ve looked over your records since coming to Fort Bragg, your appraisals, everything they’ve got on all of you.  The brass are looking for men for a special program. They’re sending me recruiting. They want the best and brightest. This is my first stop. Page, Carpenter, Reynolds, Johnson, Redmond, Stein, Clayman, Adams, Burgess and Deakes, pack your gear. I want you ready to leave by 0600 tomorrow. The rest of you, go about your regular duties.” Chambers said.

“Yes Lieutenant!” We all saluted again.

“Lieutenant, if I may ask, what is this special program?” Stein asked.

Chambers glared at Stein, who flinched. “What do you think?” Chambers demanded.

“Sorry Lieutenant.” Stein said.

Chambers dismissed us, and we began walking back to the barracks. “What the hell were you thinking?” Page slapped Stein on the head. “You questioned Chambers?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to get into anything weird. What the hell does ‘special project’ mean?” Stein asked.

“It’s probably just some special training.” I said.

“Yeah, they’ll want us to be special forces or something, like the British Commandos.” Reynolds agreed.

“So long as it helps me kill some Nazis, I’m up for it.” I said.

“Calm down my Aryan brother, there will be plenty of Nazis for everyone, just as soon as we get in this thing.” Stein joked, and the rest of us laughed with him.

<><><>

They never told us where they took us. It was a top secret facility somewhere in the middle of the country. All we knew was they loaded us onto a truck, and drove us for hours out into the middle of nowhere.

We arrived, wherever it was, and we were assigned our bunks. We were split up, they said something about having even numbers in each group or something, all I knew was I had been separated from my buddies, and I wasn’t happy.

As more and more soldiers moved in from all over the country, the groups filled up. None of us had any idea what we were doing. Rumours ranged from secret weapons, to special Air Corps training. Nobody had any idea what we were in store for.

One morning, we were told to skip morning exercises, and told to assemble on the field in front of the main building. Lieutenant Chambers was back on base.

“Gentlemen, you have been assembled here for one reason.” Chambers began.

I heard somebody behind me mutter “It’s about time he told us.” It sounded like Stein to me, and I fought not to smile.

“You are the best new recruits the Army has. The fittest, the strongest, the fastest. Each one of you is the best you can be.” Chambers smiled at us, and we couldn’t help but feel proud.

“But that’s not good enough.” The smile disappeared from Chambers’ face. “Your country needs you all to be better.” Chambers let out a short laugh. “But how can you be better than your best? Well that’s what we’re here to find out. Welcome to Project Spartan.”

<><><>

Over the weeks following that day, each group was summoned separately into the upper levels of the facility. Until then, the areas had been off limits to us, but apparently things had changed.

My group was pulled out of our specialised hand-to-hand combat training session to be taken up there. We climbed the stairs single file, and were ordered to step into a small waiting room, where we had to strip down to our underwear.

We were given a physical, the fifth since we had arrived, and sent into the next room. We weren’t given our clothes.

A half-dozen men in lab coats swarmed over us, instructing us to lay down on what looked like an examination table. They began poking us with needles, taking blood and injecting us with some concoctions of chemicals that I couldn’t even understand the names of.

We were left to lay there for half an hour, before we were taken into the next room. I was the second through the door, within the room stood the strangest device I had ever seen. It was a tangle of wires, pipes, glass tubes and machinery I didn’t even understand. In the centre was a platform, which the scientists directed me to. The scientists fled behind a concrete barrier, as the machine whirred into life. The glass tubes lit up and I could feel a warmth flow through me. The warmth turned to a burning, and I began to scream for mercy. After what seemed like hours of agony, the burning disappeared, and I collapsed.

<><><>

The next month was a blur. I was in bed with the worst fever I have ever experienced. I drifted from sleep to consciousness from minute to minute, unable to distinguish dream from reality. I ranted and raved for hours on end. The whole time, I was sweating like I have never sweated before or since. The pounds melted from me, any fat was first, then my muscle started to deteriorate, all my hard work was disappearing.

Then the fever broke, and I awoke in my group’s barracks alone. The beds didn’t look like they had been slept in in days. All of the footlockers sat empty. They were gone.

A doctor came in soon after, and told me that my entire group had come down with a severe fever, the same as I had. None of them had survived. He told me to get some rest, and that it was a miracle I was alive. It wasn’t much comfort.

<><><>

Within a week, I was back on my feet. Eating in the mess hall with the guys from Fort Bragg. I found out that over 50% of the guys in the program had died, as a result of their various treatments, or their side-effects. Some groups experienced total losses, some were unharmed. There was little middle ground, and I was the only sole survivor of any group.

A month passed, and I could keep up with the others in training and exercises. A month later, and I had surpassed them all. I was the fastest, the strongest and was learning twice as fast as anyone. So they started training me harder. I practiced hand-to-hand combat against two men at once. I started giving head-starts in foot races, or ran extra laps of the base.

The scientists took me in for studies. They wanted to know why I was better. They wanted to know what had changed in me. I spent hours at a time on those examination tables, being poked and prodded, but still had time for training.

<><><>

I remember the night of August 15^th 1939 quite vividly. I woke to a gunshot and shouts of confusion. I was out of bed in my skivvies and running before I knew it.

I ran across the drilling yard and into the main building, towards the source of the gunshot. I overtook the MPs on the stairs, they weren’t moving fast enough, and by now I could smell smoke.

I reached the top of the stairs, and found one of the lab assistants standing with his back to me, a pile of documents under his arm.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, and he spun to look at me.

“Don’t come any closer.” He waved the pistol in my face, careful not to get within striking distance. “I shot Doctor Kirby already. Don’t make me kill all of you American scum.”

“You shot one of your colleagues? Why?” I asked, trying to reason with the man.

“He tried to stop me. I was stealing your file. The Fuhrer must hear of this Ubermensch, we must duplicate your treatment.” The lunatic said. “If Simon hadn’t found me, he could have lived. But the fool called for help, I had to silence him.”

“You’re a Nazi.” I exclaimed.

“Yes, of course. And now I’m destroying the lab you were created in. The Americans will lose their Project Spartan, and the Fatherland will have an army of perfect Aryan soldiers!”

“You set the building on fire before you escaped? And now your only way out is blocked by me and at least a dozen MPs. Just come with us, and we’ll get you out of here safely.”

The traitor looked at me in fear. “I will never betray the Fatherland!” He shouted. “If we cannot have your secrets, then no-one will!”

Too late I realised what he was doing. He bounded out of my reach and leaped into the spreading flames. I tried to chase after him, but an MP tackled me down. Moments later, there was a deafening roar, as one of the laboratories exploded, feeding the raging inferno even more.

We escaped, but the rest of the occupants of the building weren’t so lucky. Dozens of geniuses died in that fire, all of them responsible for what I became. And with it, the hope that there would be more like me.

<><><>

I spent the next year or so all across the country. I was a quick learner, so I didn’t need to spend as much time in training as regular people. Lieutenant, now Captain, Chambers would check up on me periodically, he was training the survivors of Project Spartan. None of them were changed by their treatments, but that didn’t stop Chambers from turning them into the most highly-skilled unit in the entire Army, nicknamed “Chambers’ 300 Spartans”, even though there were actually 341 of them.

The Army kept trying to duplicate the results they got from Project Spartan. They wanted more like me. They wanted an army that would make the Germans and the Japs quake in fear. They never did quite get it right. They only had me.

That’s why I got promoted to Sergeant on December 7^th, 1941. That’s why I was the first man on the ship to England. That’s why I’m Uncle Sam. Because I’m the only one who can be.

“Uncle Sam is the greatest man I’ve ever met. It’s as simple as that.”
“It’s pretty common knowledge that we never really agreed on much. He was the seasoned veteran commander, I was the young rebel. So we clashed.”
“Our arguments are legendary. Heh. I think we might have even argued over the colour of the sky once or twice. I had a comeback to everything he said. Every order, I had a question. It never ended.”
“A lesser man would have fought me. God knows I gave him excuse after excuse. Especially after the fling I had with his daughter. But he never even raised a hand against me. He would shout until he was blue in the face, but he never stooped to that level. I know in his position, I probably would have taken that route. But that’s why I’m not Uncle Sam.”
“Honestly, I think Sam welcomed the argument. I had a different point of view, and he respected that. If I spotted a flaw in his plan, the rare detail that he missed, he didn’t ignore me, or order me to be silent, he took it into consideration. A commander listening to his troops is a rare thing. A commander who explains himself to his troops is even rarer. Any time I questioned his orders, questioned his authority, he answered. He explained every little detail until we all understood.”
“He was more than a leader though. To guys like me and the [Second American] Eagle, he was a father figure. I mean, I know Eagle’s dad was on the team too, and he was a real stand up guy, but we all looked up to Sam. I never really had a dad, he was a deadbeat who ran out on my mom with some w**** he hooked up with in Korea. Uncle Sam gave me someone to follow. I was only eighteen at the time, and I honestly believe that if I hadn’t served under Uncle Sam, I would have turned out a lot worse. I’d be dead, or in Alcatraz. Uncle Sam kept me on the straight and narrow, no matter what, and he always believed in my abilities. He always pushed me to be my best, and I did it for him, we all did.”
“If I’m even half the man Uncle Sam is, then I’m satisfied.”
“I like to think that I helped Sam as much as he helped me, but let’s face it, he’d have been fine on his own.”
“He’s just that damn good.”