"Because he told me..." That's a killer line. I could hear the suspense and then the dramatic music in the backround. 
A Solid update.
Deus
A Solid update.
Deus
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Two great updates Yogi! Now America shall feel the wrath of Pan-Asia
I imagined Bond, as the planes raced away to yell...
Khaaaaan!!!!
...but that would just be silly
I imagined Bond, as the planes raced away to yell...
Khaaaaan!!!!
...but that would just be silly
Hmph. I'm surprised that the Shadow doesn't have a radio in his car, and those DC-3s would be helpless against even one fighter.
Great set of updates.
Great set of updates.
nice updates! yep i say he's insane...either that or hes either really old or khan is alive!!!
I'm having the sneaky suspicion Fu Manchu is in fact *every* attempting world-conqueror *ever*.
But if he's Genghis, then why is he so worried about producing a successor?
And anyway, does that bomb count for anything in game?
And anyway, does that bomb count for anything in game?
Wow, great update!
Is that a bugatti the Shadow is driving? The picture looks like one.
Is that a bugatti the Shadow is driving? The picture looks like one.
Thanks for all your comments, although I'm too pressed for time to answer more than these two right now.
And now, the Secret Weapon is revealed!
Thanks! He has, but Siwan Khan has planned to counter it.discovery1 said:
The bomb rationalises some things, rather than causes them. I'm looking to have the secret weapon included in the secret weapons tech file in the mod though.Evil Capitalist said:
It's actually a 21st century car called the Devaux Coupé.GoforitPanzer said:
And now, the Secret Weapon is revealed!
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Presidio, San Francisco
California, United States of America
April 15th, 1940
The X Army Corps, with two infantry divisions on its roster and assigned to the defence of San Francisco, was quartered right north of the city in the old Army Base at Presidio, built at the site of a Spanish fort from the 18th century. This was an ideal location, since Presidio Army Base also was the location of the HQ of General Douglas MacArthur’s Sixth Army, which was tasked with the defence of the West Coast and included twelve of the fifteen divisions in the US Army inventory after it’s latest round of frenzied expansion, and of Letterman Army General Hospital. It was also right next to Chrissy Field Army Air Corps Base, where the HQ and fighter elements of the Eagle Legion had been based. This was expected to considerably ease any difficulties in Army-Eagle Legion coordination. But in addition to all these advantages, it also had one major disadvantage.
Because it was so close to the prepared defensive positions at the possible invasion beaches, which could be reached in a matter of minutes with trucks that were always kept fuelled and ready at the premises, the bulk of the troops of X Corps stayed on base at all times (where they couldn’t get into trouble with local beauties in swimsuits, like at the beaches), with only token patrols on site. Thus Presidio presented an eminently juicy target.
Buck Rogers stood whistling, leaning against the doorframe to his barracks at Chrissy Field. He was watching the sun rise over the dark eastern horizon, painting the light clouds over the Pacific in crimson, orange and pink. The ocean was calm, and only a light breeze carrying a slight salty tang stirred the cool night air. It shaped up to be a beautiful spring day, perfect for flying. He was planning on taking Hannah… no, “Fraulein Oberst Reitsch to you, Captain!” he corrected himself, grinning. He was planning on taking the Colonel on an inspection tour. He wouldn’t tell her in advance, but he was fully planning to do a power dive under the Golden Gate, see if the Luftwaffe Aviatrix could keep up. He grinned mischievously at the prospect.
His Merlin-powered P-40B was working beautifully. It was not quite a match in speed or manoeuvrability for the Bf-109F air superiority fighters of the Eagle Legion, but it was sturdier and more heavily armed, and it could out-dive the Germans. Buck and Hannah had spent much time trying to devise tactics with which the faster but less nimble planes of the Eagle Legion could take on the hypermanoeuvrable Zeroes. Some former Messerschmitt Bf-110 pilots provided valuable insights for such a tactical situation based on their experiences against Polish and British biplanes; maintaining a high airspeed at all times, preserving any height advantage by using dive-and climb attacks and most importantly: never, ever engaging in turning contests. To supplement these sensible rules of engagement, Hannah and Buck had devised a combat formation immediately dubbed the “Reitsch Ring” by the German pilots: if a dogfight could not be avoided, the entire squadron would roll in on itself like a coiled snake biting it’s own tail, each plane covering the rear area of the preceding one. Buck wasn’t eager to try it, but he thought it might well work, after all he had downed his only Zero when it was busy going after “Doc” Mitchell’s tail.
The droning of aircraft engines made him come out of his musings. For an instant he was alarmed before recognising the familiar sound of the Pratt & Whitney radials of American DC-3 transport planes. He immediately spotted their familiar outline against the red dawn: three of them, bound straight for Presidio and Chrissy Field. They came relatively low, but fast. Buck thought they might want to make a pass over the field to inspect it before landing. He wondered briefly if they might carry a letter from Sandy, who he hadn’t been able to see since the outbreak of the war. Knowing the girl, she would be mightily put off by that. Suddenly he realised that the DC-3’s were not going to over-fly Chrissy Field, but Presidio itself. At that altitude, they would wake every sleeping soul there, including General Douglas MacArthur. What the hell were those pilots thinking?
Near Sacramento
California, United States of America
‘This is the Shadow, calling the San Francisco Police Department, come in please! Please respond, this is a national emergency, come in please!’
The only response to the Shadow’s frantic radio broadcasts was hissing static, so strong that it almost blotted out the roar of the engine inside the passenger compartment of the car. Siwan Khan, grinning like a maniac, threw back his head against the neck-rest of his seat and laughed.
‘Jammed! You’re still jammed! But keep trying, soon it will be too late!´
‘How can he have jammed the radio traffic of the SFPD?’ Bond wondered. ‘Won’t that kind of heavy jamming give the Army warning that something’s afoot?’
‘It’s not San Francisco that is jammed, it’s us!’ The Shadow growled. ‘I think Siwan Khan dropped of radio emitters set at the Police frequency along his way – we’ve been driving in a jammed corridor for the last hour!’
‘Can’t you switch frequency?’ Indy asked. ‘Those emitters can’t be jamming the entire band. Switch to the Army frequency, or the Air Corps!’
‘I can’t!’ The Shadow wailed, smashing his fists down on the steering wheel. ‘I never thought… I’m a CRIME fighter, I had the radio pre-set at the NYPD Police frequency, which is the same as the SFPD uses, and only one other setting: the frequency to my New York sanctum, which is monitored by Burbank. But it’s out of range from here!’
‘You cannot warn them!’ Siwan Khan continued his demented laughter. ‘Drive, Ying Ko! Drive faster! You still have time!’
‘Shut up!’ The Shadow screamed and struck the Golden Master senseless with a well-aimed blow to the chin. ‘I’m veering off next chance I get’, he added, ‘let’s see if we can’t get out of the jammed corridor.’
The others didn’t answer.
Presidio, San Francisco
California, United States of America
Buck saw the three DC-3s came in over Presido Army Base in a triangle formation he really didn’t like, two ahead and one in the rear. A bomb run. It looked for all the world like a bomb run! He began to run towards his parked fighter, not caring that it was not prepped, the engine not idling.
The Tong pilots in the three DC-3s had had to modify the plan. Originally they were to have dropped one weapon near each corner of the base, but with the demise of one of their number, they had decided to use a triangular pattern centred on the beautiful old building, near the middle of the base that served as MacArthur’s HQ. One end of the base would suffer only the effects of one weapon, instead of two, but hopefully it would be enough. Their target close, they opened their bomb bays.
In his cockpit, Buck was trying to get the engine going with only the electrical emergency ignition system. Knowing in his heart it was already to late, he looked up through his open canopy to see the DC-3 open up their bomb bays. Bomb bays, on DC-3s? What the hell was going on? Suddenly some of his anxiety went away. The planes were now straight over Presidio, and they hadn’t dropped any bombs yet. And now it was too late! The laws of ballistics would make any bombs dropped at that speed and altitude fall wide past the base and cause only minor damage.
Right above their dropping zones, the Tong pilots climbed brusquely, quickly shedding airspeed, and pulled the dropping lever. The three enormous bombs fell out of their cradles, hurtling towards the ground. As they fell, lines still attached to the bomb cradle snapped, opening the top of each weapon and allowing a big white parachute to deploy. The oversized “bombs” were halted in their fall and sailed ponderously towards the ground while the Tong pilots again dipped their noses and pushed their throttle to the limit in order to escape at the greatest possible speed.
‘Cargo canisters?’ Buck wondered out aloud, not caring that he was speaking to himself. Why on earth would someone drop cargo canisters on an Army Base? Suddenly he got his answer.
Each of the containers was suddenly blown open by a very minor internal explosion, sending long strips of metal flying out from their sides. Out through the resulting slits, a white mist quickly expanded to form a large cloud around the bomb. In the next instant, before Buck had scarcely registered what had happened, the three clouds exploded each with the violence of a small ammunition depot. The explosions expanded to join, forming a great cloud of orange fire that rose against the dark sky.
The shock wave hit Chrissy Field with the power of a tropical hurricane. Buck’s P-40 and several Messerschmitts not in their hangars were flung about like dry leaves, wings breaking into fragments. A tree toppled over. Bleeding and shocked, Buck climbed out of the ruins of his crate, thankful that the ignition hadn’t managed to start the engine since he was drenched in aviation fuel from the snapped of wings. He looked in terror towards were Presidio had been. A great mushroom of fire slowly rose against the morning sky. Below, at the base of that raging furnace, Presido Army Base, Sixth Army HQ, General Douglas MacArthur and the more than twenty-five thousand men of X Corps were being immolated.
California, United States of America
April 15th, 1940
The X Army Corps, with two infantry divisions on its roster and assigned to the defence of San Francisco, was quartered right north of the city in the old Army Base at Presidio, built at the site of a Spanish fort from the 18th century. This was an ideal location, since Presidio Army Base also was the location of the HQ of General Douglas MacArthur’s Sixth Army, which was tasked with the defence of the West Coast and included twelve of the fifteen divisions in the US Army inventory after it’s latest round of frenzied expansion, and of Letterman Army General Hospital. It was also right next to Chrissy Field Army Air Corps Base, where the HQ and fighter elements of the Eagle Legion had been based. This was expected to considerably ease any difficulties in Army-Eagle Legion coordination. But in addition to all these advantages, it also had one major disadvantage.
Because it was so close to the prepared defensive positions at the possible invasion beaches, which could be reached in a matter of minutes with trucks that were always kept fuelled and ready at the premises, the bulk of the troops of X Corps stayed on base at all times (where they couldn’t get into trouble with local beauties in swimsuits, like at the beaches), with only token patrols on site. Thus Presidio presented an eminently juicy target.
Buck Rogers stood whistling, leaning against the doorframe to his barracks at Chrissy Field. He was watching the sun rise over the dark eastern horizon, painting the light clouds over the Pacific in crimson, orange and pink. The ocean was calm, and only a light breeze carrying a slight salty tang stirred the cool night air. It shaped up to be a beautiful spring day, perfect for flying. He was planning on taking Hannah… no, “Fraulein Oberst Reitsch to you, Captain!” he corrected himself, grinning. He was planning on taking the Colonel on an inspection tour. He wouldn’t tell her in advance, but he was fully planning to do a power dive under the Golden Gate, see if the Luftwaffe Aviatrix could keep up. He grinned mischievously at the prospect.
His Merlin-powered P-40B was working beautifully. It was not quite a match in speed or manoeuvrability for the Bf-109F air superiority fighters of the Eagle Legion, but it was sturdier and more heavily armed, and it could out-dive the Germans. Buck and Hannah had spent much time trying to devise tactics with which the faster but less nimble planes of the Eagle Legion could take on the hypermanoeuvrable Zeroes. Some former Messerschmitt Bf-110 pilots provided valuable insights for such a tactical situation based on their experiences against Polish and British biplanes; maintaining a high airspeed at all times, preserving any height advantage by using dive-and climb attacks and most importantly: never, ever engaging in turning contests. To supplement these sensible rules of engagement, Hannah and Buck had devised a combat formation immediately dubbed the “Reitsch Ring” by the German pilots: if a dogfight could not be avoided, the entire squadron would roll in on itself like a coiled snake biting it’s own tail, each plane covering the rear area of the preceding one. Buck wasn’t eager to try it, but he thought it might well work, after all he had downed his only Zero when it was busy going after “Doc” Mitchell’s tail.
The droning of aircraft engines made him come out of his musings. For an instant he was alarmed before recognising the familiar sound of the Pratt & Whitney radials of American DC-3 transport planes. He immediately spotted their familiar outline against the red dawn: three of them, bound straight for Presidio and Chrissy Field. They came relatively low, but fast. Buck thought they might want to make a pass over the field to inspect it before landing. He wondered briefly if they might carry a letter from Sandy, who he hadn’t been able to see since the outbreak of the war. Knowing the girl, she would be mightily put off by that. Suddenly he realised that the DC-3’s were not going to over-fly Chrissy Field, but Presidio itself. At that altitude, they would wake every sleeping soul there, including General Douglas MacArthur. What the hell were those pilots thinking?
****
Near Sacramento
California, United States of America
‘This is the Shadow, calling the San Francisco Police Department, come in please! Please respond, this is a national emergency, come in please!’
The only response to the Shadow’s frantic radio broadcasts was hissing static, so strong that it almost blotted out the roar of the engine inside the passenger compartment of the car. Siwan Khan, grinning like a maniac, threw back his head against the neck-rest of his seat and laughed.
‘Jammed! You’re still jammed! But keep trying, soon it will be too late!´
‘How can he have jammed the radio traffic of the SFPD?’ Bond wondered. ‘Won’t that kind of heavy jamming give the Army warning that something’s afoot?’
‘It’s not San Francisco that is jammed, it’s us!’ The Shadow growled. ‘I think Siwan Khan dropped of radio emitters set at the Police frequency along his way – we’ve been driving in a jammed corridor for the last hour!’
‘Can’t you switch frequency?’ Indy asked. ‘Those emitters can’t be jamming the entire band. Switch to the Army frequency, or the Air Corps!’
‘I can’t!’ The Shadow wailed, smashing his fists down on the steering wheel. ‘I never thought… I’m a CRIME fighter, I had the radio pre-set at the NYPD Police frequency, which is the same as the SFPD uses, and only one other setting: the frequency to my New York sanctum, which is monitored by Burbank. But it’s out of range from here!’
‘You cannot warn them!’ Siwan Khan continued his demented laughter. ‘Drive, Ying Ko! Drive faster! You still have time!’
‘Shut up!’ The Shadow screamed and struck the Golden Master senseless with a well-aimed blow to the chin. ‘I’m veering off next chance I get’, he added, ‘let’s see if we can’t get out of the jammed corridor.’
The others didn’t answer.
****
Presidio, San Francisco
California, United States of America
Buck saw the three DC-3s came in over Presido Army Base in a triangle formation he really didn’t like, two ahead and one in the rear. A bomb run. It looked for all the world like a bomb run! He began to run towards his parked fighter, not caring that it was not prepped, the engine not idling.
The Tong pilots in the three DC-3s had had to modify the plan. Originally they were to have dropped one weapon near each corner of the base, but with the demise of one of their number, they had decided to use a triangular pattern centred on the beautiful old building, near the middle of the base that served as MacArthur’s HQ. One end of the base would suffer only the effects of one weapon, instead of two, but hopefully it would be enough. Their target close, they opened their bomb bays.
In his cockpit, Buck was trying to get the engine going with only the electrical emergency ignition system. Knowing in his heart it was already to late, he looked up through his open canopy to see the DC-3 open up their bomb bays. Bomb bays, on DC-3s? What the hell was going on? Suddenly some of his anxiety went away. The planes were now straight over Presidio, and they hadn’t dropped any bombs yet. And now it was too late! The laws of ballistics would make any bombs dropped at that speed and altitude fall wide past the base and cause only minor damage.
Right above their dropping zones, the Tong pilots climbed brusquely, quickly shedding airspeed, and pulled the dropping lever. The three enormous bombs fell out of their cradles, hurtling towards the ground. As they fell, lines still attached to the bomb cradle snapped, opening the top of each weapon and allowing a big white parachute to deploy. The oversized “bombs” were halted in their fall and sailed ponderously towards the ground while the Tong pilots again dipped their noses and pushed their throttle to the limit in order to escape at the greatest possible speed.
‘Cargo canisters?’ Buck wondered out aloud, not caring that he was speaking to himself. Why on earth would someone drop cargo canisters on an Army Base? Suddenly he got his answer.
Each of the containers was suddenly blown open by a very minor internal explosion, sending long strips of metal flying out from their sides. Out through the resulting slits, a white mist quickly expanded to form a large cloud around the bomb. In the next instant, before Buck had scarcely registered what had happened, the three clouds exploded each with the violence of a small ammunition depot. The explosions expanded to join, forming a great cloud of orange fire that rose against the dark sky.
The shock wave hit Chrissy Field with the power of a tropical hurricane. Buck’s P-40 and several Messerschmitts not in their hangars were flung about like dry leaves, wings breaking into fragments. A tree toppled over. Bleeding and shocked, Buck climbed out of the ruins of his crate, thankful that the ignition hadn’t managed to start the engine since he was drenched in aviation fuel from the snapped of wings. He looked in terror towards were Presidio had been. A great mushroom of fire slowly rose against the morning sky. Below, at the base of that raging furnace, Presido Army Base, Sixth Army HQ, General Douglas MacArthur and the more than twenty-five thousand men of X Corps were being immolated.
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Wow, what a secret weapon! Masterful writing, Yogi, though you seem to have a few tags misplaced...
Masterful writing, Yogi, though you seem to have a few tags misplaced...
Holy Hannah!
With the bulk of X Corps as well as MacArthur gone, Fu is truly ready to launch his assault upon America!
With the bulk of X Corps as well as MacArthur gone, Fu is truly ready to launch his assault upon America!
No, not "DA BOMB!" but some big ass thermobaric weapons (fuel-air explosives)! So now you know what else you can do with ethylene oxide besides using it as poison gas.yourworstnightm said:
For those who remember it, a small thermobaric bomb (although the device was never named or classified as such in the narrative) was used to blow up 10 Downing Street, but Bond failed to notice that (hence, he didn't get it when he was warned that he should already be familiar with the secret weapon).
The Yogi said:No, not "DA BOMB!" but some big ass thermobaric weapons (fuel-air explosives)! So now you know what else you can do with ethylene oxide besides using it as poison gas.
For those who remember it, a small thermobaric bomb (although the device was never named or classified as such in the narrative) was used to blow up 10 Downing Street, but Bond failed to notice that (hence, he didn't get it when he was warned that he should already be familiar with the secret weapon).
Far too cunning for us I'm afriad Yogi, you amaze as usual
Auch, that got to hurt the US Army! And they had so few divisions to start with... Original idea, of the fuel-air bomb.
Things are going too well for the Si-Fan. When will the heroes and villians opposing him strike back?!
I hope will see a couple of more updates before you leave for Spain, Yog.
When will the heroes and villians opposing him strike back?! I hope will see a couple of more updates before you leave for Spain, Yog.
Ah, right, Yogi is leaving for a while. In the joy of new updates that slipped my mind.