AMERICA DREAMING EPISODE 5

THE PRESENT (SUMMER 1960): Leviathan, out of costume, in his lab coated persona of Doc Jeff Hurley carried a cup of hot coffee and a croissant through the sterile steel doorway of the World Patrol HQ's brig.
He took a sip of his drink and pushed his glasses back on to his nose. Blasted things were always slipping off. He looked over at the three prisoners in their ray-guarded cells and put his coffee down on a control console.
"Good morning, mein leiblings," he said cheekily. One of the captives, clad in his blackened and damaged shieldsuit, sneered back.
"Sorry that your rooms aren't up to the standard demanded by der fourth reich. If you want to, you can write a letter of complaint to the manager and I'll be certain to throw it in the trash, you Nazi scumbags!" retorted Doc Hurley, whose father had been Captain Hurley of the World War II outfit, the Roaring Rebels.
One of the prisoners leaned forward and spat: "Little jew-loving superman. Ve are ein hair's breadth from bringing your corrupt culture to its knees!"
Doc Hurley spun to face this prisoner while trying to suppress a grin. Riling up Nazis always brought results, the evil bastards loved to talk, boast and brag.
The prisoner, oblivious to the rapid shakes of the heads of his comrades, hoping to shut him up, continued to rant.
"In our strongholds across south America ve haf rockets aimed at every city in der US. Ve haf created ubermenschen who make your much vaunted Imperator, Regal und der American Sentry look like circus strongmen. Ve shall be victorious!"
Doc Hurley smiled and rubbing his chin said to the prosoner: "South America, you say? But we've searched most of the countries down there so where are you boys holed up?"
The Nazi threw his head back and laughed then carried on much to the chagrin of his comrades.
"Our supreme stronghold is under der Amazon in Brazil. It is there that our occult-doktors fuse science und sorcery to bring Der Fuhrer back to his loyal legions!"
With this bombshell, the other two prisoners cringed. One put her head in her hands.
The other raised his eyes skyward and slowly shook his head.
"My thanks, Fritz. Care to mention the co-ordinates? Y'see, I'm sure our scrawny superheroes would love to head down to Brazil to get their butts kicked by your boys," chirruped Hurley.
The other two prisoners were now yelling at their big-mouthed comrade, pleading with him not to say any more.
"How dare you tell me to be silent! I am your commanding officer. I vill speak as I see fit!" barked the Nazi, chest puffed out.
Doc Hurley clapped his hands and said: "I heartily agree. Carry on, sir."

FLASH FORWARD: THE NEAR FUTURE....NOV. 1963:
It was a moment when titans clash, a true battle royale. Tensions between the two had been simmering for some time.
And upon that grassy knoll in Dallas on a cold November afternoon they fought, with the fate of the country at stake.
Discovered in an iceberg after having been thought lost in the final days of WWII and revived by the World Patrol about a year ago, The American Shield had helped JFK to defuse the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Now he had made a discovery of his own. The Patriot, in the employ of the CIA and other shadowy branches of the US intelligence community since 1945, was preparing to assassinate JFK.
It was a split-second glint from his rifle's muzzle that had caught the attention of the American Shield. Now the pair were locking horns.
"Frigging' boy scouts like you and Imperator can't see the mess that mick bastard's gonna bring down on us!" snarled the Patriot.
The American Shield slammed a meaty fist into the Patriot's jaw.
"Just... SHUT UP!" yelled the Shield, his blonde hair twirling in the cold breeze.
The Patriot fell backwards, blood arcing up from his mouth with a couple of teeth spinning through the air.

FLASHBACK: THE RECENT PAST...1932:
"Ma, it's the truth! I saw 'im with my own eyes. Bright as day, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge!" said the skinny youth, dressed in a baggy, holed red sweater and threadbare brown slacks.
The boy, fifteen or sixteen, rubbed his freckle-flecked nose and stared at his mother, a frail woman doing a pile of washing in the small kitchen sink of their rundown apartment.
The woman turned her head and smiled at her son.
"Teddy, I do believe you. Now would you run down to the store and pick up some powder," said the woman.
The youth, Teddy Tanner, said that he would and scoped up a small heap of quarters on the kitchen table. Outside, on the landing, his friend Paulie sat on the bannister. Paulie lit up a pipe as Teddy shut the door to his apartment.
"She believe ya?" asked the bowler-hatted and podgy Paulie.
"Yes, but I still can't quite believe it myself. We actually saw the American Sentry, Paulie," said Teddy.
Paulie, through a thick cloud of grey-brown pipe smoke said: "It sure was sumthin', Teddy. I always t'ought da guy operated over in Pennsylvania. Never t'ought he'd git to Noo Yawk.
Y'know, Big Boo reckons it's an omen. He sez da Sentry is like sum kinda omen dat Roosevelt is gonna be president!"
Stepping out onto the busy street, Teddy Tanner shivered despite it being August. He found himself looking up at the sky. Not searching for another glimpse of the American Sentry but feeling something elusive yet solid. Change was coming to America and to the life of Teddy Tanner.
TO BE CONTINUED...