Team Atlantis and all related characters and concepts are the property of the Walt Disney Company. Everything else in this tale is drawn from history both real and imaginary.
S.S. Atlantean, Bantry Bay, Co. Cork, Ireland, 1920 A.D.
"He proposed? Congratz, Marge. What does that make… three now?" Wilhelmina Bertha Packard droned into her headset. "Believe me, honey, it gets easier every time."
"Uh… Mrs. Packard?" Dr. Sweet softly interjected.
Packard eyed Sweet like a wolf who just had her meal disturbed.
Sweet responded with an ingratiating grin.
"Gonna have to call you back, Marge. Got another call on the line." She flipped a switch. "Atlantean to Sub-Pod 1. Come in, Sub-Pod 1. Unless you got something better to do?"
[-]
Sub-Pod 1
"Sub-Pod 1, here," the Audrey answered. "We musta swept half the island's coast and no sign of any monster. Just a lotta silt and seaweed. It's almost like someone's been listening to too many old fish stories."
"What can I say, the old guy had an honest face," Vinny shrugged, sitting next to her in the sub's tiny cockpit. "Kinda reminded me of my grandpops… or maybe it was my plumber? I don't actually remember what my grandpops looked like. Grandma burned all his photographs and made us swear never to speak of him again. Very proud woman."
"We'll keep you posted, Atlantean. Sub-Pod 1 out," She hung up the mic, returning her hand to the steering wheel. "I just hope this isn't gonna be like that time in Loch Ness."
"Tell me 'bout it," Vinny drawled. "Two weeks in a itty-bitty submarine going back and forth, back and forth, over twenty-three miles of lake. No monster, no nothing, not even like a… like a really big eel. Okay, I mean...Mole said he saw an eel. But nobody else saw it... and Mole also said it had wings... and the guy sleeps in fertilizer, so..."
Audrey leaned forward as something caught her eye, a massive jagged shape resting on the seabed. Only its general outline was visible through the silt.
She squinted. "What is that?"
"Eh, probably just a reef," Vinny shrugged before the sub-pod started to vibrate ominously.
[-]
S.S. Atlantean
"Doctor… I think you're gonna want to hear this?" Packard offered Sweet an earpiece.
Sweet listened intently to something like a deep low rumble. "What is that, a motorboat?"
"No… much bigger."
[-]
Sub-Pod 1
Audrey and Vinny shielded their eyes as the cockpit was abruptly filled with a blinding geenish-blue light emanating from what looked like the massive… thing's eyes. They could barely make out its silhouette in the murk as it rose from the seabed; long and sleek like a predator. Its head tapered to a swordfish-like lance.
"What the heck is that thing?!" Audrey gasped.
"Don't worry 'bout it, I gotta lil' something special ready," Vinny's hand hovered over a conspicuous red button. "I call this… the Monster-Buster!"
A torpedo was sent flying from the sub-pod's hydrofoils, impacting its target with enough explosive force to send the tiny pod reeling from the shockwaves.
Audrey scrambled back into her seat. "You coulda warned me!"
"Maybe a lil' less paprika next time?" Vinny righted himself, straightening his 'tash. "Anyway, important thing is we killed the monster so now we can go home and-"
The vast predatory shape emerged from the swirling silt, lightning arcing across its swordfish lance as it turned on the mini-sub.
"Okay, now you can worry 'bout it."
[-]
S.S. Atlantean
The bay waters pulsed a bright blue, like sheet-lightning through a storm-cloud, before returning to an inscrutable greenish-black.
Dr. Sweet stood on the prow of the Atlantean, praying silently as he scanned the waves for any sign of life. Cold sweat and colder rain beading upon his brow.
After some of the longest and most excruciating minutes of his life, Sweet's prayers were finally answered as a water-logged Audrey and Vinny broke the surface; paddling frantically.
"You two, lower me down and tell the nurse to get the decon chamber ready!" Sweet barked at some adjacent crewmen as he leaped into a lifeboat. Within moments, he was helping his soaking comrades aboard. "You two okay?"
"Yeah," Vinny drawled, wringing saltwater from his 'tash. "Next time, I'm throwing in a whole jar of paprika!"
A few scorched fragments of the sub-pod broke the surface.
"That ain't comin' outta my paycheck." Audrey piped.
Dr. Sweet let out a low whistle. "Well good news is Milo and Kida can't possibly be having a worse night than we are."
[-]
The Tigress
"DIE, HOUND!" Ned shrieked, lunging at the Dobhar-chú with his great barbed harpoon. The creature seemed to slide rather than crawl over the wooden deck, easily avoiding the strike.
Ned lunged again and again, only for the beast to dodge each attack until the harpoon finally embedded itself in the Tigress' wheelhouse. A defenseless Ned frantically tried to pull his weapon loose as the Dobhar-chú warily advanced.
Kida leaped into the fray, slashing the distracted sea-beast's paw with the curved blade of her spear.
The Dobhar-chú let loose a howl before striking back with its heavy shark-like tail, sending Kida hurtling into Milo.
Before the two adventures could regain their footing, the Dobhar-chú pounced on Ned. The normally stoic harpooner screamed in terror as the sea-hound's jaws grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, like a she-wolf with an unruly pup.
The Dobhar-chú's gleaming yellow eyes glanced about for only an instant before diving back into the waters from whence it came, a squirming Ned in tow.
"NO!" Kida cried as she and Milo rushed to the side of the boat, but it was already too late.
All that was left of either the Dobhar-chú or Ned O'Malley was a slight ripple upon the surface of the brackish waters.
[-]
S.S. Atlantean
Kida and Milo trudged sorrowfully into the sickbay, leaving a trail of vaguely footprint shaped puddles in their wake.
Dr. Sweet let out a low whistle. "I take it back. Looks like everybody's having a bad night?"
"You have no idea," Milo sighed.
Kida leaned against one of the empty cots, head cradled in her hands.
"A man died tonight."
"Kida, we don't know for sure that-"
"Yes, we do, Milo! Why else would that beast have-"
Knock-knock.
Kida, Milo and Sweet's heads swiveled towards the decon chamber, where Audrey and Vinny's faces peered out from behind a glass porthole.
"You saw it too, huh?" Audrey asked.
"The monster? Yes!" Kida answered. "A vile sea-hound with yellow eyes and barbed claws!"
"Musta been at least three hundred feet!" Audrey added
"Uh, more like seven… eight maybe?" Milo offered.
"Needle-like fangs…"
"Shooting lightning outta its great big horn!" Vinny chimed.
"Wait… stop!" Milo threw his arms in the air. "A giant horn? Shooting lightning? That's not anything like the creature we saw!"
"Where and when did you see this horned monster?" Kida demanded.
"'Bout an hour ago… on the other side of the big island in the bay." Audrey shrugged.
Kida and Milo looked at each other in horror.
"That was around the same time we saw the Dhobar-chú by the coast!" Kida gasped.
"Hold on, back up," Dr. Sweet's signaled a time-out. "Are you telling me there are two monsters in this bay?!"
[-]
Somewhere…
Stg. Harding gasped as the burlap sack was pulled from his head. His eyes screwed tight against the blinding electric lamp directed upon him.
He was kneeling, chained to some sort of iron platform by his wrists. He could hear the waves softly lapping in the blackness beyond, amid the incessant patter of rain on metal. Beneath his chained limbs, he felt the distinct rhythmic swaying of a vessel at sea.
Shapes coalesced as his vision returned. To either side knelt Constables Perkins and Clives, similarly restrained.
Surrounding them were at least a dozen other shapes. Most prominent was a gaunt greying Negro. He was clad in a strange uniform of a dark blue material and brandished what looked like an air-rifle or harpoon gun.
The rest were clad in the same strange dark-blue uniform, save for the sable masks that obscured even their faces. Upon each figure's left breast was a sigil of pale whitish gold, like a stylized N.
"Who are they, sarge?" Perkins whimpered. "Are they Fenians?"
"Hush, Perkins. Let me handle this," Harding hissed. "Alright, you ignorant muck-savages! By the Authority vested my me by His Majesty, George V, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British Dominions beyond the Seas, King, Defender of the Faith, Emperor of-"
"Enough," a voice rang out; harsh, cold and metallic.
"Captain on deck!" The strange crew instantly formed themselves into duel files, standing to attention as a new figure strode forward with inexorable purpose.
The figure was clad in a greatcoat of dark, almost ebon, blue. A long curved saber hung sheathed from the belt. Head crowned with a jeweled turban like a Raja. The face was obscured by a mask of the same pale whitish gold, cast in the shape of a death's head.
The figure loomed over Harding. He could almost feel the boundless cold fury before which his own anger felt like a small pitiful thing, like a candle before the tsunami. He felt his anger shrivel to dread.
"You have no authority here, bootlick" the specter spoke in a low, chillingly resonant voice. "Nor does your infantile monarch. Here I am law. Here… I am judge."
Harding felt a cry of defiance strangle in his throat.
"Crewman Axel?"
"Aye, Captain?" one of the masked crew answered
"These are the men you spoke of?"
"Aye, Captain," she spat.
"Gentlemen…" The Captain sneered the word, like a bad joke. "You stand accused of trespass, theft, murder, and rapine! Have you anything to say in your defense?"
"How dare you, Sir?!" Harding huffed. "We are honorable servants of the Crown! We have stolen nothing! We have-"
"YOU HAVE STOLEN THIS ENTIRE ISLAND!" The Captain roared. "For eight centuries you have torn the food from its children's mouths, shed the blood of its sons in wars not their own, and tied to strip its people even of their faith!"
"And not just this island," The Captain continued unabated. "India, Africa, Australia, Polynesia, even the Americas! Everywhere the sun touches, your empire has brought nothing but slavery, degradation, and death!"
"Y-you can't blame us for all that!" Perkins sputtered. "We were just-URK!"
The Captain's gloved fingers clamped down on Perkin's throat, squeezing the breath from his air-pipe.
"You accepted blame for 'all that' the moment you donned that uniform," the Captain hissed before tossing the gasping captive to the ground. "Even if your own personal sins were not enough to damn you."
"And what of it!?" Harding snarled, blood boiling. "It only proves that we are the natural superiors! It is our God-given right to rule over inferior savages! We are children of Albion's fair sun, a race of conquerors and explorers! Bold! Fearless! Undaunt-"
"IT WAS THE SARGE'S IDEA! HE MADE US DO IT!" Perkins wailed, throwing himself at the Captain's feet. "We didn't want to hurt the old man! We were only following orders! Isn't that right, Clives!?"
A trembling Clives nodded frantically.
"Well... we have a confession then." The Captain turned to the greying Negro. "Number One, take the crew below and make preparations to dive."
"With pleasure, Captain," The evident First Mate struck his left breast in salute. "Mobilis in Mobili!"
"Mobilis in Mobili!" the crew chorused before filing back down into the vessel's interior.
"Wait!" Harding sputtered. "What are you going to do with us!?"
"Nothing more," the Captain intoned, turning to follow the crew. "The trial is concluded, your guilt proved, your sentence passed. All that remains is for you to await your executioner. May your god be more merciful than mine."
"Y-you can't do this!" Harding stammered. "What kind of man are you!?"
The Captain stopped, fixing Harding with an inscrutable gaze.
"As Ulysses spoke unto the cyclops… I am no man."
A hatch slammed shut as the Captain vanished from view. The blinding electric light was snuffed out, plunging Harding and his men into pitch darkness.
The vessel rumbled beneath their feet as cold, uncaring waves began to lap at their knees.
[-]
Elsewhere…
Ned O'Malley awoke to cold brackish waves lapping against his face. He scrambled out of the water through the pitch darkness in a blind panic, feeling wet half-rotted wood beneath his fingers.
He took a moment to master himself, slowing his breathing and reaching for the matchbox he always kept in his back pocket. The box was cast of a tightly fitted copper which, God willing, should have kept the matches dry.
He pried the lid open. The contents felt dry enough but there'd only be one way to know for sure. Whispering a quiet prayer to the Blessed Virgin, he struck the match.
To Ned's everlasting gratitude, light filled the chamber, revealing him to be lying within a half-submerged cabin on what looked like an old capsized sailing ship. Algae-encrusted walls leaned inwards as they reached for the ceiling, or rather deck, above.
"Well, that solves one mystery."
The dim flickering light revealed the wooden walls to be covered in countless scratch-marks. They were not random but rather arranged into a veritable mural of crude pictures, vaguely like those he'd see carved into wood by South Sea islanders back during his whaling days.
Ned's hand reached out to one image in particular; a clumsily etched stick figure in a triangular dress, a mess of scribbles serving for a mop of unruly hair. By the stick-girl's side, towered a giant of a stick-man, brandishing an oversized arrow.
"Muireann…?"
The match died.
Before Ned could light another, the waters at the far end of the cabin began to churn and bubble. He felt around for a weapon, grabbing up a rotted wooden chair-leg lying among the flotsam.
The Dhobar-chú's yellow eyes slithered from the water, regarding its prisoner with a cryptic gaze. It paused uncertainly, before taking a single hesitant step forward.
"Back, Hound!" Ned barked, swinging wide with his improvised weapon.
The Dhobar-chú recoiled, whimpering like a scolded puppy.
"Well, what are ye waiting for?" Ned panted. "Ye can't seriously be afraid of a soggy stick!?"
The Dhobar-chú tried to force a sound through its malformed lips, only to come out as a dull groan.
"Well? Come on, then! FINISH ME, LIKE YOU FINISHED MUIREANN!"
The Dhobar-chú twisted its lips once more, forcing out another sound. This time it was a single unmistakable word…
"Daaaaaaaaddddyyyyy…"
To Be Concluded…