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No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. |
In a simple wooden warehouse on the banks of the Thames, a malevolent force with designs of world domination was hard at work. A yellow robed figure was perched over an expansive table full of beakers, test tubes, bunsen burners, and a wide range of biological cultures. The bald, clean-shaven man peered with his cat-like green eyes over the experiments that were unfolding before him. The man was known by many names – the Celestial, the Great Man, the dreaded Chinaman. His true name, or at least the one that he used in polite conversation, was Doctor Fu Manchu.
Dr. Fu Manchu was beginning to establish his base of operations here. He would not be ready to commence his operations for another decade. However, time was of very little issue to him. His most powerful concoction, the Elixir Vitae, gave him virtual immortality. Soon he would return to Burma and resume his operations there. His masters in China had presented the plan for the ultimate victory of the Chinese people. Despite his awesome power, Dr. Fu Manchu was still beholden to them. However, the time would come when he would plot his own course.
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The storm burst upon us six years ago now. As Mars approached opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires of the astronomical exchange palpitating with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak of incandescent gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight of the twelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at once resorted, indicated a mass of flaming gas, chiefly hydrogen, moving with an enormous velocity towards this earth. This jet of fire had become invisible about a quarter past twelve. He compared it to a colossal puff of flame suddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, "as flaming gases rushed out of a gun." |
Outside of the grand Harker Estate, the nefarious lord of vampires relished in his latest victory. While it was as great of a victory as he had planned, it was a victory nonetheless. Now, another one of the damnable band was dead. The group that had ruined his plans in England a few years ago was now short another member. Jonathan Harker was now dead at Dracula’s hand. The vampire lord had hoped to destroy the entire Harker clan, but the beauteous Mina and the child Quincy had been away. He had set upon the solicitor at the outskirts of the estate, where Dracula did not require an invitation to enter. Although Dracula had initiated many schemes to garner an invitation, an invitation that would grant him unhindered access to the estate, the Harker clan had been very careful not to fall for these ploys. When Dracula came upon Jonathan today, the vampire’s attack was so sudden that the solicitor had been unable to bring any of his protections to bear. Jonathan’s crucifix and silver blade remained uselessly in his pocket as Dracula drained his blood.
As Dracula sailed in bat-form through the cold, foggy sky, he savored the taste of Jonathan’s blood upon his lips. It had been a number of years since that day outside of Castle Dracula, and Dracula had been plotting revenge upon the members of that band. Now, Jonathan was the second to die at Dracula’s hand. The cursed Professor Abraham Van Helsing had been the first to fall. Perhaps it was better that the entire Harker family had not died today. The survivors would know that Dracula had been the perpetrator, and they would live in greater fear for their remaining days. That would make their deaths even more delicious; fear was an exquisite spice to the taste of blood.
In an undeveloped section of the growing metropolis of London, another villainous threat to peace and freedom was immersed in his work. He wore a purple robe as well as a purple Oriental hat. He was adjusting a number of levers and switches on large metallic apparatus. There were underlings scurrying about this underground laboratory, seemingly oblivious to the presence of their master. They were, in fact, not oblivious to their master but rather they were fulfilling the direct mental commands of their lord – the Oriental menace of the Yellow Claw.
The Claw was pleased with the operation of the machine. It was functioning to produce extremely strong, yet delicately light in weight, metalwork.
"These British imperialists are so proud of their vaunted navy," the Claw raved to no one in particular. "They feel that their fleet can protect their far-flung empire from any threat on the land or on the sea. I have seen the future of war, and it is not on the earth or on the water, it is in the air."
Walking over to another area in the laboratory, the Claw oversaw the construction work being performed by his underlings. Those unfortunate Chinese immigrants who had fallen under his sway were slaving away at fabricating the framework for dirigibles. Soon he would have an armada of airships, a "Skyfleet" as he called it, at his disposal.
The Claw felt supremely confident in his latest endeavor. This purely scientific stratagem seemed an ideal method with which to wage his war against the world’s powers to elevate himself to a position of global domination. In the past, he had vacillated between scientific and mystical ploys, although sometimes he employed a combination of the two disciples. One of his most recent mystical schemes in the ‘uncivilized’ American West, had met with resounding failure. A literal army of "cowboys and Indians" had risen up in opposition to him. There was even a strange woman in patriotic American garb that seemed to recognize him. {See All-Winners Squad #14} Perhaps he would unravel that mystery someday; for now, his attention was focused upon destroying British might. Once Britain fell, other countries would feel the unrelenting grip of the Yellow Claw.
In a simple-looking mansion on the outskirts of London, one of the most powerful secret societies in the British Empire was holding a meeting with three of their members. The Royal Society, under orders directly but secretly from the Crown, had been established to deal with the threats to the Empire that could not be handled through more conventional means. The Society had been existence for some time now; no one knew exactly how long. The three members that were there were discussing the reports pertaining to the activity from Mars.
The Lord Godalming, known to his friends as Arthur Holmwood, was overwhelmed with the experience. This was the first meeting to which he had been summoned since he had been inducted into the society. An envoy from the Society had come to his estate shortly after the dreadful battle with Dracula. Apparently, the Society had been aware of that struggle with the vampire lord. They had given him a golden pin emblazoned with a crown. An envoy had come today with a letter sealed with the same symbol. The letter had requested his presence immediately.
Godalming sat with his two fellow members. They were the first two members he had ever met, since he had only met them upon his arrival early this morning. The first man was decked out in a snappy blue suit and a short blue coat. A smooth blue derby rested atop his head. He had introduced himself as "John Bull". Godalming had laughed at the appelation. "John Bull" was the name of a British national symbol. Godalming assumed that this man was obviously hiding something.
The other man wore very fine black suit. He also wore a long black overcoat and a tall black stovepipe hat atop his red locks of hair. With his right hand, he tapped a cane that featured a wooden raven’s head for a handle. The man had offered the name of "Edward Raven."
Raising his cane and pointing to the papers arrayed before them on the large round oaken table, Raven began the discussion, "I presume that all of us have had sufficient time to peruse the reports that have been delivered by agents of the Society."
Once Bull and Godalming had nodded, Raven continued. "As you can surmise, the Empire faces a potentially grave threat to the mother country here. We have reports from a number of countryside locations of the landing of these strange metallic cylinders. I, for one, see this activity as being the likely prelude to an invasion from the Red Planet."
"An invasion from another world?" Godalming replied excitedly. "Are you daft man? The Creator only blessed the Earth with life. Why it is pure lunacy …"
Bull raised his hand to stop Godalming’s rambling. While he was typically dubious of Raven’s ever-present suspicion and paranoia, he had to admit that Raven appeared to be correct in this case. "Cease your prattling, man. You yourself fought against vampires. Is it too difficult for you to expand your horizons to encompass such a possibility?"
"But beings from another world?" Godalming replied. He had not expected this sort of thing in being a member of the Society.
"If you survive as a member of the Society, you shall learn that there are many strange and wondrous things out there. Beings from another world might be considered tame to others," Raven said.
"If I survive?" Godalming thought. Perhaps accepting membership into the society was not a wise decision after all.
"What shall be our course of action?" Bull inquired. He deferred to Raven, since the dark-suited gentleman was his superior in terms of seniority.
"What I propose is that we investigate one of these landing sites. Based upon my assessment of these reports, I feel that we would be best served to travel to Horsell Common. A contingent of Horse Guards should be in position there, should any conflict arise."
"Agreed." Bull looked over to Godalming, insisting with his eyes that the young Lord echo his statement.
Godalming could feel the power in Bull’s stare. "Agreed." Perhaps he would find out more about his compatriots. He knew that the names that they utilized could not be their true ones. Were they holders of titles of those names within the Society, or were they hiding their true identities for other reasons? Time would tell, but for now, there was an Empire to protect.
WAR OF THE WORDS
This is another attempt of mine to add to the history of the MV1 universe. The Marvel series set in the 30th century, Guardians of the Galaxy, included the adventures of Killraven and the Freemen, as depicted in Amazing Adventures, as part of their timeline. The "War of the Worlds" series that appeared in Amazing Adventures showed a world that was invaded again, by Martian forces. Since the timeline of the Guardians did not diverge from that of the mainstream Marvel Universe until Marvel Two-In-One #69, it stands to reason that the first Martian invasion must have happened in the mainstream universe (and thus MV1) as well. Marvel never addressed it, so I am.
The concept of the Royal Society is one of my own creation. It’s an idea that’s been kicking around in my head for a number of years. It was supposed to be a part of a universe of my own creation, then I was going to use it as part of a DC Golden Age roleplaying MUSH, but now it’s finally found a home here in MV1. Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming, was one of the characters from the Dracula novel. John Bull, a British icon like Uncle Sam, is my own creation, but he will be a member of a familiar family. Edward Raven is also a product of my own imagination, although he will have familial links to other characters.
You can see that the tale is dependent on the original H.G. Wells novel, although with a number of Marvel twists. If the story is well-received and the spirit takes me, I might write another story regarding the Martians –whether that be tied in with the 1938 radio broadcast or the 1952 motion picture. There also might be a tale of what the Martians did in the MV1 near the end of the 20th century. In the Guardians’ timeline, the Martians won at the cost of the lives of most of Earth’s superheroes. Who knows what might happen in the MV1 timeline? Only time will tell.
