LeoPanther

     They were greeted by a good-sized crowd when they got back on land. A half dozen local police, two full squads of the defense force, a score of local officials including people from the resort along with a good-sized landing party from the HMS Argyll. There were also no less than three different news crews recording everything.      “So much for keeping below the radar,” Someone muttered.      The Brethren slipped back into the water and swam away, mostly unseen but Chris remained. He refused to back away but he did stay near the back of the group.      A figure walked to them but then turned his back the just arrived group and looked at the camera. Chris recognized Joseph Congreves. The resort manager from before. “I’d like you to meet the brave adventurers who helped us defeat the monster!”      “We were only able to defeat it with the help of our Brethren allies,” Philip said. “We wouldn’t have succeeded without them!”      “They were the ones who caused this catastrophe,”

       The massive undead thing roared into view. It brushed aside plants and small bits of debris as it moved.      “FIRE! Kill it!” Philip ordered.      The monster barged thru a storm of spears, harpoons and flechettes as balls of magic created ice and stone that slammed into it.      None of it seemed to bother the creature as it plowed thru it all and straight at Chris.      “Get lost!” Chris shouted along with a string of curses in several languages. He had just enough time to raise up his harpoon before the shark slammed into him.      Jonathan’s last sight of him was as the shark swam off with Chris still clamped in its jaws. The Sealman was screaming loudly over the radio as he stabbed it with his harpoon. “Die! You putrid bastard!” In moments they were gone into the maze of streets but he could hear Chris cursing and swearing in several languages for a moment afterward.      Jonathan raced off after them. “It grabbed Chris.”      “Follow him!” Philip ordered.      “Catch

     Upon their arrival at the pier the group got a sight that was both reassuring and unnerving. The HMS Argyll a Type 23 Royal Navy frigate was sailing a short way off the coast. Outside of the ruined city limits. The Captain, Commander Ed Woodward had taken his ship sprinting across the South Atlantic and had just arrived.      “Captain Woodward has been briefed,” Robinson said to the group. The Royal marine was dressed in a full wetsuit and armed with his special amphibious assault rifle. “If need be, he can attack the creature but he needs a clean line of sight. Also, she’ll have her helicopter aloft, equipped with Stingray ASW torpedoes and depth charges. He and his ship are on frequency with us. So be polite. No games.”      “Captain Woodward. This is Philip Mayswell United States Navy, Commander. Retired,” Philip said. “If you get a good shot at that thing. You take it! Never mind where we are.”      “No,” Chris shouted. “You have to wait till we plant these blasted necklaces.

     Chris dropped several things onto the table in front of the Royal Marine. They were the three canvas satchels he had purchased at the same time he had gotten the harpoon. “I want three satchel charges.”      The group had returned to their base. They were scattered around the main room. Some were cleaning equipment; others were checking weapons but all were getting ready for the coming fight.      “What?” The marine asked as he picked up one of the empty satchels.      “Satchel charges,” Chris responded. “Pack them with explosives and a short fuse. So, I can play Steve McQueen and use them to blow something up.”      “You want to use a satchel charge against that thing?” Philip asked. “That means coming into contact and that’s too close.”      Chris pulled up his shirt, revealing his scars and partly healed wounds. “Getting too close is not a problem. Getting away. THAT’S the problem.”      That earned him a round of laughter from everyone.      “Seriously though,” Chris added. “I

     “I need armor of some sort,” Chris commented to the group.      “I don’t think we have armor for your type,” Selim said.      “I need something,” Chris said. “I’ve already got enough scars from that thing and the bulletproof stuff is not going to cut it.”      “How about something more old school,” Robinson said.     ************        The curator of the museum was not happy but he had been given explicate orders to let them ‘borrow’ items from the museum. But only till the crisis was over.      “This way,” Robinson said and led them thru the hallways of the Saint Philipina Island Museum of History. He took them past the modern exhibits, past the 18th century rooms and even past the 15th century stuff. He stopped in front of a doorway. “Here,” he said simply. The lettering over the door read ‘Atlantida – a lost city of Atlantis’.      This was a large exhibit, spread over some 15 rooms of various sizes.      Chris had been here before. Several times actually and seen almost

Pym’s Final Prank      Lunch was fish chowder and sandwiches eaten in silence. Chris refused to speak until the meal was done. This gave some people time to dry off and others to calm down.      “Now if we are done eating,” Philip said coldly. “And wasting time.”      “Time spent eating is never wasted,” Chris responded with mock cheerfulness.      Philip scowled at Chris for a moment. “I’d like you to meet Lorenzo Robinson,” He pointed to a person seated at the end of the table.      The black man was dressed in the fatigues of a British Royal military soldier. He held himself like a combat veteran. A fact reinforced by the scars on the right arm. His face had the hard look of man who was not happy.      “He is a 20-year veteran of the Royal marines and he has been assigned to us by the local government,” Philip commented.      “You don’t look happy to be here,” Rory said.      “I’m not,” the Marine responded. “I have been assigned to babysit a bunch of amateurs acting like they know

 Right Tools For The Job      “If we’re going to get rid of that monster I’m going to need to go shopping,” Chris announced. “I need some things to fight that monster the right way.”      Down by the water he found a junk/antique store. This was not one of those glitzy tourist traps but an older place full of all sorts of odds and ends. It was one of the places you could spent hours exploring and never see everything. It was in a slightly run-down old building that had seen better days but was still in good shape.      Chris quickly found what he was looking for; a good, serviceable divers’ knife, a small hand axe and three canvas satchels each 15 inches by 10 by 5 in size.      He spotted a harpoon hanging horizontally from a ceiling joist. The weapon was five feet long and had a large stainless-steel point. In spite of its clear age, it was in excellent shape.      “How old is this?” He asked the shop owner as he pointed to the weapon.      The man smiled as he took the weapon down

     “How did I let you talk me into this?” Chris asked.      “This was your idea,” Róise responded cheerfully.      “Just relax and read the script we wrote,” Jonathan added.      They were in a large auditorium in the local town hall courtesy of the government. They were standing at one end behind a wooden podium. In front of them was an audience of a score of men and women from different news organizations. Chris noted a half dozen cameras. On the podium in front of him was a dozen pages of script. All of it carefully written by the other Brethren. It was detailed and concise and boring. Very boring. He placed the papers on the podium and ignored them.      “Good morning!” Chris said to the assembled reporters. He raised his hand to wave to the crowd but stopped. “Ow! Shit!”      Chris unbuttoned his jacket and took it off. He draped it over the podium. He turned to the audience. “One moment please,” he said in an overly cheerful tone. “We’re experiencing technical

  Sammy the Seal      The resort assigned them an escort who went with them whenever they were on resort property. The man introduced himself as Joseph Congreves. He was low level management and seemed to be pretty mellow.      They were making their way past one of the resorts twelve pools when they came upon a crowd. A large group of some twenty or so kids of various ages were clustered around what looked to be a seal like man wearing a blue bathing suit! Chris was still in his hybrid form with a pair of shorts and a Tee-shirt. The rest were all human looking.      A little girl spotted Chris and pointed at him with a shout.      A dozen kids turned and raced towards Chris. The rest of his group backed up and scattered leaving him to face the onslaught alone.      In moments he was surrounded by a dozen cheerful, inquisitive and noisy kids. Some were asking questions; some were singing and some just staring at him.      “Sammy the seal! Sammy the Seal,” they were singing. “Who’s the