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GM Doctor Norris North, director of W.E.S.T (World Exotic Science Taskforce) was nervous. His job of course required spinning a lot of plates, and he was not a nervous man by nature. But right now, he helped himself to a vodka. Just the one. For nerves. He was on board a Sea-plane which was descending to the cove of Dr Deoxies island. Hidden. Concealed. Remote. And by invitation. Still, even if he was invited, it was an island populated by dinousaurs and infused with radiation. He would be taking every precaution. Whilst the plane was being flown by the pilot (an experienced ex-US air force woman of stronger nerves than he), he pulled up the communication link to Doctor Deoxy. "Doctor? Doctor? Do you read me? This is North. Doctor Norris North, Director of W.E.S.T. Do we have your permission to land and...ah....where should we do so safely?" he asked, politely.

GM May 1st, Monday, 2017, 12.45AM Emerald City, Washington, United States, Fort Brewer Naval Base, Sub-level 2, briefing room "This is the only visual we have on your target, uh...Ms. Masterson" Admiral Henry "Hank" Finley was a fit, imposing man at 6'8", with his close-cut greying hair and constant frown softened little by a short spadehead beard. He also clearly had little experience dealing with superhumans. The darkened room he and the other, conspicuously silent, officers were gathered in had enough Cold War atmosphere to choke somebody from the bright and clear Forties. The lights were dimmed to help accentuate the ten-foot-wide picture humming softly in the air. With a slight cough and a swipe of his fingers, the projected image of a distant, misty lump of grey on a time-stamped horizon sharpened and jumped into focus. Hovering above the conference room table, the picture resolved into an island. An island with towering cliffs for shores, great tangles of hanging greenery and a liberal sprinkling of palm trees. "As you can guess, there's nothing like this on any of our charts. Satellite has nothing, even got Argus down here last weekend to scan. Nada." The Old Man of Fort Brewer folded his arms and looked down into the enigma that had brought Mary Masterson, the Torpedo Lass of World War 2, to far-off Emerald City, Washington. "Sent some scouts out, they got to the spot and swear up and down the thing just vanished. But I noticed something." "The sub crew I dispatched along with the other boats, they say it vanished just a little after the others lost track. Could mean nothing, but," Finley turned to Torpedo Lass, a gleam of cunning in his dark eyes "got me thinking somebody who can go faster than anything we've ever built and do it under the surface might stand a chance of clearing this up." "What we're asking is strictly recon, understand. Just get there, take a look around, come back and give us what you get. We give that to Citizen and he takes care of anything dangerous." the admiral shook his head resolutely, and his tone became one Mary was all too familiar with. "I'm not inclined to risk your safety, miss, no matter how bulletproof they tell me you are. I've got kids older than you." May 2nd, Tuesday, 2017, 8.45PM Liverpool, England, A very nice side-street The hero Dr. Deoxy had needs any human had. Being at the center of artistic life and on the crest of the glittering wave of imagination, for one. So strolling from one dazzling get-together had seemed like a good idea at the time. Just a little shortcut and he'd be back in the circle of greats... Dr. Nathaniel Anderson only knew he was being followed when he felt the sudden shock of lightning, fell spasming to the ground and heard somebody whisper "You. Have been. Thunderstruck!" There was a giddy giggle as the darkness closed comfortably around Nathan's head "Nothing? Aw geez, overjuiced..." A squalid room somewhere The darkness slid away to reveal a room that had once been stark and harrowing. A massive, altar-like table occupied the centre, letting the eye of the Sun in to bathe Nathan in cosmic fire. The rest was gloomy and indistinct, though clearly vast and of the Modernist school. Vines and tree roots reached in through the roof, turning the yellow light a gentle emerald. Other vegetation scrawled across the walls and floor. Somewhere birds chattered and sang. Of more immediate importance was the fact that Dr. Anderson was pinned to the stony bed by some invisible force, preventing movement of any kind. And he wasn't alone. Somewhere close, and getting closer, was the clopping sound of clumsy booted feet making their way towards him...

OOC thread for this thread. You thought it was over eighty years ago but it wasn't. @Exaccus @Sailor

OOC thread for this thread.

GM October 1st, Saturday, 2016 Miles offshore from Emerald City, Oregon, the PanStar Pacific Proliferation Platform(P3 Station) "We're very excited to have you both here, Dr. Delacroix, Dr. Anderson." Though easily a few heads shorter than either of the two men, Olivia Oum, Director of PanStar's Ocean Developments division, seemed a positive giant among the ever-present crush of workers, technicians, company people and sundry humanity scurrying around the shiny-new fish farm and cloning facility. All of them quickly made way for the quartet of Dir. Oum in her crisp blue suit, her PA whose eyes never left her phone (which did nothing to impede the rest of her work) and the two visiting scientists. There was certainly plenty of space on the Platform, an enormous silver-white dome intersecting two massive rings cradling an advanced force-field system that let water and nutrients in and kept a great many other things out. Every ceiling and floor bore PanStar's gold star, the symbols of its associates(Emerald City's MarsTech, Ming Xi Visions and Saito Solutions) while the rain-streaked windows looked out at a recently-passed storm front and a heaving deep-grey sea. Leading the way to an elevator, Oum went on blithely "PanStar has worked hard to make the world a better place, and with this, a way replenish our dying ocean's ecosystem, we hope to avert a disaster even this world's heroes have been powerless against." With a swipe of her thumb against a colored bar the door rematerialized behind them. The PA's head tilted slightly upward "Zhou in manfac needs another bulk order Ma'am, 203E-5s, tungsten." "By all means, Panita, put it through." Oum smiled benevolently to the visitors as the elevator descended swiftly, the Pacific Ocean surrounding them and the submerged levels of the Platform as a cloud of darkness and shifting shadows deepened by the facility's lights.. "We understand UNESCO's need to ensure our full compliance with the law and the highest ethical standards, given the stakes at play. Rest assured, Dr. Anderson, we have nothing to hide and every member of our staff will comply with your review. Or I shall know the reason why." The dazzling smile the compact woman shone at the Englishman did nothing to undermine the undertone of ferocity. Turning to the American, the Director added "Dr. Delacroix, we appreciate the willingness of the Institute to gives its second opinion. Your work in bioscience and the in-depth understanding of business your brothers have displayed fills us with confidence that this will lead to a swift and mutually-satisfactory conclusion!" Relaxing against the transparent metal windows, Oum asked brightly "Do you have any questions?"