Saturday, May 16, 2015
If you haven't been visiting The Baker Street Universe, you're missing out! Come visit and enjoy a whole other world of adventure and fun.
If you haven't been visiting The Baker Street Universe, you're missing out on:
New stories
Novels
Cool trivia
Interviews
Animations
Videos
Movies
And not only that, you're missing out on the opportunity to open up to a whole new universe, where everything is possible, where heroes from stories actually exist, and their authors are there to help them in their adventures.
It's a rollicking, fun filled toast to the Victorian times, but with a cool bent that makes everything we take for granted turn upside down and inside out.
In this world villains can be heroes because anything is possible.
Join me at The Baker Street Universe and expand this universe into a whole new one!
(New) The Giants of the Nazi World "A Rocketman Story" By John Pirillo and short stories, artwork, videos and animation at ImgaineNation
"A Rocketman Story"
By John Pirillo
"The cardinal sin of any good soldier is to put all his trust in his weaponry. Any weapon can fail, but he can't." -- Words of General Wishtower
"Men, what you see before you is a representation of the Nazi super cooling tower being built in San Francisco." Colonel Brighton told the troops assembled.
Harry and Jet stood behind them, watching as well. They were the team that would be responsible for making the advance as safe as possible, knocking out any power lines, or other obstacles. Most of the time obstacles were as simple as a few lead lined super lasers with automatic targeting cannons that could wipe out a platoon with one swipe. Sometimes more difficult. Ten foot Nazi Sturm Giganten, built like tanks. Living breathing nightmares of Third World War technology pioneered by Hitler's best scientists.
Oh yeah. And in case you were wondering this isn't the world where the Allies won World War Two, but where they lost it.
My name is Harry. In my world I was a Captain, here I am known as Rocketman and sometimes Captain Harry, which I prefer. I don't always remember my last name or much else, when I'm crossing over between the two alternate realities. Sometimes I don't even remember there is an alternate reality. Only that I have a mission to accomplish. As Rocketman.
I fly this rocket suit. On my real earth it's a huge tank of a thing, well, maybe not that huge, but it weights a lot and is tall and cumbersome, and I ride in it. In this world I have a lighter suit that I can strap on like the old movie serials. And it's hellishly fast. Like Superman fast. But without his strength or protection. I can still die, get shot down and generally hurt a lot.
"Captain!" He gestured to me.
I went forward and stood next to him, then used the pointer he handed over to indicate three roads that curved into the cooling tower, all bordered by warehouses and bunkers. "These." I indicated the roads. "These are the way the main carriers and transports enter the cooling tower base structure."
Jet played the devil's advocate. "So how likely am I to just waltz in there and get what I want, say a nice hotdog or a glass of fresh lemonade?"
Everyone broke into laughter. General Wishtower scowled at Jet, who hurriedly began counting fingers, which made the men laugh even more. I quickly went on. "Not likely. The road is hotwired."
The soldiers stopped laughing.
Hotwired meant it was genetically marked and all the Nazis were genetically marked. We were not. We'd get fried hotter than a buttered piece of toast in an oven left on too long if we touched those roads.
Jet slowly put a hand up. "Uh."
"Yes, Jet?"
"Can I bring marshmallows?"
General Wishtower burst into laughter before he could catch himself, then looked to me, trying to hide his face.
"Jet, you can, but they'll do you no good. We're flying in."
"Do I have to?"
Everyone broke into laughter again.
I shook my head, smiling, and then turned to indicate the warehouses. "Interconnected. Each door is hard wired and without the right code will send an electric shock instantly frying anyone who touches it."
"Barbies anyone? Jet asked.
After the laughter died down, I went on. "Al." I indicated a grey haired man standing to the right of us. "Al and Edison have cooked up...pardon the pun...a device that when you wear it, will automatically trigger the codes. Only one small problem."
Jet raised his hand. Everyone tensed for laughter.
"If you don't get past the Zombies it won't make much difference."
Jet squealed. "I hate them things!"
With that the platoon was dismissed and headed off to barracks to prepare for the coming assault.
General Wishtower took me and Jet side to meet with Einstein.
Our combat headquarters was deep in the heart of a Swiss Mountain, only visible if you knew where to look. And no one did, because it was carefully cloaked by electronic devices and other modern war gear. Einstein and Tesla had rigged a kind of stealth cloaking device that kept our entrance and exit well hidden. Even if a Nazi Soldier stumbled upon the entrance he'd only think it was a simple slope with rock and snow. No more.
And if he got too close. Well, there were considerations for that as well. None of them good for the luckless soldier who had made the wrong turn.
"Everything's hanging on you two getting into that tower and jamming up its power."
Jet looked at me. "Long as I don't have to ride the buggy wagon beneath this guy."
I laughed. "Jet, you know you love it."
"Hell no. Last time you dumped me in Lake Lucerne. I almost became a popsicle."
The General looked at Jet.
"It's a stick with frozen juice or water on it."
General Wishtower shook his head. "Your world is so strange."
"Hey, General!" Jet told him quite frankly. "This one sure ain't no bell ranger, that's for sure."
"What's a..." The General started to ask, then shook his head and headed off to join the team in Control. He was overseeing the mission.
Einstein smiled at us. "You two boys sure know how to get his panties in a wad."
We both laughed. I put a hand on Al's right shoulder. "Al, its underwear, not panties. Panties are what women wear."
"Oh." Al said with a blank face.
=====================================================
As agreed I scouted the cooling tower one more time while Jet and the platoon got into position for the attack. Jet was along because he was handy in figuring out the various death traps the Nazis inevitably laid out for unexpected guests.
And yes, we were a major pain in their black hearted bottoms.
These Nazis were not the ones of your earth, but of another earth. This earth had been won by them when the Allies failed to stop their launching of a deadly barrage of nuclear weapons, which had wiped out very major Western city around the planet. The Nazis, prepared for the strike, had swept into the countries with advanced weaponry that they had kept off the radar in secret bases and moped up most of the resistance.
Some of our military survived. Some in other countries. They got together and created a base in the Alps, and used it to make life miserable for the Nazis.
When I first got here, I was in total shock. The Nazis used civilians like robots, prepping them in some kind of genetic formula that converted them into mindless zombies that would do anything. Some of the Nazis were physically enhanced...the Sturm Giganten, and others...well, I shudder to think of the others.
When the coast seemed clear. No new Nazi movement, only the steady flow of fuel trucks into the basement, I felt we were ready to go. Our goal was to detonate the fuel. It was highly charged radioactive materials that only needed a little tampering and would go boom, taking out the entire facility and probably a few square miles around it as well.
Our scouts had already warned the locals of what might happen. Most of the locals preferred to stay, not believing they were safe anywhere, but the smarter ones beat it. The Nazis had brainwashed the masses so thoroughly, that most had few thoughts of their own anymore.
And we kept an eye on who went in and out of the cooling tower, in case some of the natives thought of giving us up. Not that it didn't happen sometimes. The natives usually were more than happy to take out a few Nazis, but sometimes they were too far gone and like the zombies many became, were better off dead anyway.
"Jet." I spoke into my helmet mike.
"Yeah!" His voice came into my helmet.
I adjusted my flight attitude and saw him and the platoon moving into position.
"Good to go!"
"On it!"
In a matter of moments he and the platoon swept through one warehouse after another, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. We had twenty minutes to mop the place up, because a base was twenty one minutes away. And we didn't want to have to mess with the Sturm Giganten. They were tough cookies to kill. Usually, nothing short of a nuclear blast could stop them...or the direct hit of tank cannon.
I shot ahead, landing on the cooling tower roof. The tower was shaped like a pyramid. Why, I didn't' know, but all the important electronics were stashed up there. I took out my laser pistol and began melting a few circuits.
Then I felt a huge vibration. I turned around and looked up, then up again. A Nazi Sturm Giganten.
"Vas tun sie?" It demanded, knowing already what I had done, since the smoke and flames behind me were pretty obvious.
"Getting out of here." I answered, and then turned to leap from the roof.
Before I got five feet in the air, a hand smashed me down to the roof.
I landed on my stomach. Hard. Knocked the air out of me. I rolled over and gasping for breath saw a second Sturm Giganten. The first joined him. Their faces were thick like a Rhino's, and their lips like huge crevices with jagged teeth. Their nostrils flared like tunnels of doom. Their foreheads were high, sloping to a narrow, almost cone shape. Genetics gone wild. They were incredibly smart, but locked in when it came to thinking out of the box.
Me box. Them locked in.
The second Sturm Giganten grunted when something knocked into his right foot. He looked down at the strange object and grunted again. He reached for it. Bad move. Boom! He and his companion were blasted off the roof. The fall might not kill them, but it got them out of my hair. I pushed to my feet, still weak from the blow and leaped from the roof, firing up the rocket suit. I felt it drag a moment, and then push me forward.
I angled downwards; saw Jet and what was left of his platoon winging it swiftly back the way they had come, firing ahead of them to break the electrified road ahead of them.
The two Sturm Giganten who had fallen came around the side of the tower and rushed them. My cue.
Neither one was aware of me until I swept towards them at eye level. Their eyes narrowed in anger and hatred. "Bye bye." I said, and then let them have it with both barrels of my arm rockets. The two giants hurtled backwards, slammed from their feet.
It gave me and Jet and the men enough time to reach shelter, when the cooling tower went big-time.
We peeked out to look as a mushroom cloud hurtled into the sky, spreading wings of destruction, doom and gloom. We were ten miles away. Even from there the heat was tremendous.
"Damn!" Jet said angrily.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot to bring the marshmallows."
The soldiers about us broke into laughter and I did too.
War is hell, but a little laughter goes a long way to making it less so. Even if it was at the expense of those monsters who thought they were better than everyone else.
Interview with an Invisible Man Part One By John Pirillo, as well as short stories, videos, animations and movies at ImagineNation
Interview with an Invisible Man
Part One
By John Pirillo
"In the unlikeliest of places one finds peace, one finds calm, one finds release." Professor Langdon, the Invisible Man.
First let me say that this interview was totally unplanned, as well as unexpected. But being a writer first, and a very curious one at that, I managed to pull back on my emotions and my expectations and get the interview which you are about to read. Herewith let it follow and be said that the man I interviewed is still alive, visits our world frequently on missions for his best friend and has a nasty habit of popping up in the least likely of places when you least expect him to.
As you can imagine this interview came about in the most unlikely of manners. I was seeking a cherry phosphate soda in my hometown of Avella, Pennsylvania. The town had changed much since my child hood. It's funny how the years paint the past in such glowing colors. For when the reality reassumes itself once more, the gold around the edges fades into something more comfortable and livable...reality.
My favorite spot for comic books and phosphates was gone, but there remained a small store on the edge of town that sold comic books and had a soda machine. I dropped in there on my way back from the graveyard of my father, whom had passed away about a decade ago. He wasn't a very happy man. Deeply troubled by his life and his choices, he passed away mostly unforgotten by those he had been close to.
I don't know why, but when I sat down to read the latest Thor, I felt this kind of presence behind me, which was impossible, because a mirror on the wall in front of me showed nothing in the rear of me except racks of comic books, paper backs and grocery items.
I shrugged inwardly, and kept reading, but finally the feeling I was being watched grew so strong I had to get out of there. I bought the comic, pocketed a coke in my right trouser pocket, and shrugged my overcoat on tighter. It was winter and it was freezing and made my way up the street to the hotel I was staying at. I could have stayed at my relatives, but I wanted to be able to come back to peace and quiet. My Italian relatives would go on all night if I stayed with them. It's what they had done when I was young with them.
I made it to my hotel without any more weird feelings, but the moment I got back into my room and locked the door, I got that feeling again. I turned on the lights and no one was there.
"Must be some kind of fatigue. Jet lag." I said to myself.
"Highly unlikely."
I turned around and standing in front of my door was a very conservative looking man with a shock of thick hair graying at the temples, eyes that had seen too many books up close, and a strong nose and jaw that showed great strength of character. He was wearing a Victorian jacket, trousers and top hat. He held a cane up in the air and nodded. "Professor Langdon at your disposal."
Since he blocked the way out, I played it cautious. How had this stranger gotten into my room without me knowing it?
"Invisible." He said, as if answering my thoughts.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" I demanded, looking for some way I might escape this mysterious intruder if I had to, which at that moment seemed unlikely I would be able to, but I had to at least think I had a chance.
"I am Professor Langdon, and I am the man you have been writing about for quite some time now."
My knees began to quiver and shake. "Him?"
"Yes."
He moved past me, I turning as he did so to keep my eyes on him, and then sat down at the only table in the room. "Do you have maid service? I could use a spot of tea."
The ridiculousness of his statement took all the fear out of me and maybe because of the stress of the moment I burst into a long and loud laughter, that made must have made me appear a kind of crazy man at that moment. He watched me as I dispelled my fear, and then motioned to a chair on the opposite side of the table with his cane. "Please sit down."
I sat down and eyed him closely.
He appeared taller in person than I had imagined in my writing, and also more ruggedly handsome. I had felt Professor Langdon to be youthful and good looking, but not in such an athletic way.
"I work out a lot." He said, again reading my mind.
"Do all you people read our minds?" I asked.
"No. Only yours, because you created us. Well, sort of anyway."
"I'd like you to interview me." He continued, absent-mindedly picking at lint on his overcoat, which now that I think about it in retrospect, was out of season, because it was not nearly thick enough to keep one warm in our environment.
I settled a bit, then nodded. "I could do that."
I hopped up, scrambled to my nightstand where my cell phone was recharging, glanced at its level. Enough to start, then unplugged it and came to the table.
"I don't have fresh tea, but there are some bags in the kitchenette." I pointed out.
I laid down my cell phone and rushed into the kitchenette and hurriedly heated some water in the microwave, then poured it into a Styrofoam cup and dumped several tea slips into it and a bit of honey I had bought earlier in the day. I started towards him with the cup, and then remembering my manners, grabbed a spoon and napkin. I set them before him.
He eyed the concoction, sniffing at it as if it might attack him, and then sipped. His eyes widened. "This is excellent."
"I can get you more if you like?"
He shook his head. "Let's start the interview."
He touched my cell phone, and accidentally activated the alarm on it. He jumped back from the table, cane at the ready as if he were going into battle. I laughed. "It's just a warning."
He gave me a wary look. "Does it bite?"
"Only if you stick it in your mouth." I jested.
He caught my look and gave me a considering look, then nodded and sat down again. He mopped up some of the spilled tea he had created when he knocked into the table, and I hurriedly got up and grabbed some more napkins for him. He finished cleaning, wiped his lips, and then sighed with relief.
"It's hard getting used to your world. It's so....well..."
"Different?"
"No. Antiquated."
I laughed then.
His eyebrows rose in puzzlement. "You find that funny?"
"Actually, I do, because the world I have written about with you in it is Victorian England, but with some twists, but basically about a hundred years behind our times."
"Well, be that as it may, there's much about our world you have not imagined. Perhaps in time and with further interviews you'll remedy those misconceptions."
"Perhaps." I agreed somewhat reluctantly, not sure whether to believe him or not. I may have written the character, but this man seated before me was much different in subtle ways than I had imagined. My character tended to be more flighty, like a bird watching for traffic lest it get run over, but this one seemed more self assured.
"I touched the voice recorder."It's now recording."
"Really, I must have one of those before I return to my world."
"How do you intend to do that?" I asked.
He snorted. "The same way I came here, how else?" He answered as if that settled everything.
I smiled. Definitely different than the man I had written about.
"No, I meant how you intend to purchase one of these." I tapped my phone. "They cost hundreds of dollars. This one's an Apple. Cost me seven hundred."
"Pounds?"
"No American dollars."
"I say, that's rather improper to ask for so much money for such a simple thing."
"You don't know the half of it." I replied.
He observed me quietly a moment, then continued. "Please, ask me anything. I'm yours for the next half hour."
I grew nervous. I hadn't anticipated such an interview, so I was also totally unprepared for what to ask next. So I shot in the dark.
"What drove you to become the Invisible Man?"
"Science. Plain, pure and simple. Without science man might as well be a naked ape, for he would know nothing, do nothing and have nothing."
"So you believe that science is the driving force behind humanity?"
"Yes. I do. You should see all the contraptions my good friends Jules and Wells constantly come up with. Tesla and Edison are much the same, and Einstein...the man's a genius!"
"He was here too."
"Here too? You mean he has also lived on your world?"
"Actually, yes. But much different from the one you know. He was a refugee from the Nazis."
"What are Nazis?"
"Pray you never find out." I warned him.
He nodded, but I could see he didn't understand.
"If we meet again, I'll explain."
"I understand. Now that we've started this...uh, interview...you must make the most of it."
"Yes. And by the way, what made you come to me of all people?" I asked.
"Why Professor Challenger of course. He met you at a comic book convention. You know that funny place where everyone dresses up like monsters and ghosts and pretend to be famous comic book characters."
"You have comic books in the Baker Street Universe?"
"Since you began writing them into existence. Yes. By the way, I'd like to thank you for doing so, reading a comic book is much more comfortable when going to the men's room, than holding a six hundred page book written by Mark Twain."
I smiled, and then frowned. "Six hundred pages?"
"Yes. You know, 'The Art of Loving.'" He answered.
"Never heard of it."
He shrugged. "Our worlds do differ as I have said.
I nodded, glanced at my cell. It was nearly at zero already.
"What was your first thought when you realized you were invisible?"
"To scream like a girl."
I burst into laughter.
He indulged me, and then touched my arm with his cane. "It is very unmanly to laugh at another man's weakness."
"I'm sorry." I apologized. "It's just hard for me to imagine you doing that when most of us Americans are more used to our version of the Invisible Man going berserk and destroying everything he can."
"Oh, I was mad all right. Have you ever tried shaving your face with a razor, when you can't tell where your nose and lips are? Hurts like the dickens when you miss, I'll tell you."
My cell phone blinked.
"One last question and then I'll have to recharge my phone."
"May I watch?"
"I think it'll take lot longer than the thirty minutes you've given me."
"In that case." He spoke as he stood. "I shall return tomorrow at the same time and we'll continue this...uh...interview."
I stood as well and took his hand in mine. "It would be a pleasure. And I'd like to thank you for thinking of me like this."
He went to the door, opened it and turned back. "And I'd like to thank you for creating me." He winked. "Especially creating me like I am, and not that other horrid fellow you described." And with those last words, he departed my hotel. I watched him descend to the ground floor, and then as he walked, he seemed to fade into the evening light, like a ghost dematerializing.
I went back to my phone, plugged it into its recharger, and then mulled over our few words. Next interview, I intended to be better prepared than this time.
I'll publish the second part of our interview once it is done. He promised tomorrow, but one never knows with one's creations what they will actually do until they accomplish it.
Your friend and author.
John Pirillo
(New) Dick Tracy Versus Flat Top Cartoon ," artwork, stories and videos at ImagineNation
Something old, something blue, something funny, how are you?
Sometimes a little silliness is a good thing and these old cartoons fit the bill.
John
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)