Not your average dive
Now, as she sat alone in her stolen underwater vehicle, it seemed all she could remember were bits of nautical babble and Italian commando frogmen blah de blah blah.
“Good thing I’m ace with video games.”
She rolled her eyes, then pushed the joystick forward and eased further into the murky depths.
After what seemed like ages of sinking, she arrived before the section of the stone-faced wall that she was told disguised the entrance to the Cleveland Initiative’s Headquarters. She blinked the chariot’s headlights in a series of long and short flashes.
In response, wavelengths shot upwards and downwards on her meter as a voice came over the radio.
Gwen punched the numerical code into a keypad on her ‘dashboard’, and seconds later, the voice came back over the comm.
“Lieutenant Marjorie Williams. Welcome back.”
A portal opened up before her as the rock face shifted aside, and Gwen carefully maneuvered her chariot into the waiting holding chamber. Red lights flashed to signal that the outer door was still not secure while she set the UNDINE down. A push of a button extended metal legs which quickly attached to the cement floor.
The lights remained red as the door locked up tight and the water inside the chamber drained. Once the room was dry, they switched over to green, and the glass door which made up the inner door slid aside. Gwen took off her seatbelt.
“Welcome back, Flapjack. You had us worried there for a minute,” came a voice from outside the UNDINE.
Gwen shoved against the porthole above her, grunted, and banged a fist against it.
“Can you give me a hand? I think this damn thing’s stuck,” she shouted.
She listened to the man’s footsteps as he ascended the rungs built into the side of the chariot. He grabbed hold of the circular handle.
“These old clunkers, when do you think they’re gonna upgr—“
Electricity seized his next words, but Gwen caught him before he went crashing down three stories.
“The rate the big G moves? Probably never.”
She heaved his body into the chariot then locked the door on him. She climbed down the side of the UNDINE and dropped down onto the ground. Posthaste, Gwen dashed to a narrow doorway to the left, fried the electric lock, and crept inside. Behind the door sat an older man in uniform half-dozing and half-surveying a multitude of screens.
“What are--?” he started.
Gwen’s hand came down on his shoulder and it was lights out for him shortly after.
Pushing him aside, she gave a quick once over to all of the different screens and matched them up with the map indicated on her mini computer. Once she was satisfied with her route, she put both palms down on the surveillance system’s main display. Buzzing and snapping noises filled the room as it shorted out.
“Sorry, show’s been cancelled.”
Gwen patted the sleeping soldier before tying him securely to his chair and sticking tape over his mouth.
“But maybe if you cry about it enough and write lots of letters, you’ll get a comic book series out of it.”