Jerry Silver
High above Los Angeles, a zeppelin cruised toward the center of the town. War had not broken out yet, but German Intelligence was in operation in the neutral United States. America supported their British cousins in all but manpower. The point of the project was to gather enough information that Roosevelt would be forced to sit things out no matter how much he had signed a lend lease deal to stave off the inevitable victory for the Third Reich.
Captain Arnold Schwartz looked out the windows of the crew compartment hanging under the balloon and almost growled. He had been assigned the task of stealing models of new planes America was thinking of using in the future. Everything had gone well except for one complication.
And that complication soared in the air behind him, using steam to power some jet pack that looked cobbled together out of fans and clockwork gears.
Johnny Gold smiled as he aimed for the door of the carriage. Agents of the Reich hated the professional adventurer for constant interference in their plans. He crashed against the thin door, sweeping it open to step inside the conveyance.
Schwartz drew his weapon. He pulled the barrel up to line up with his enemy as the crew reached for whatever fell to hand. This was the last time Gold would meddle with the S.S. His finger tightened on the trigger. The American opened his mouth. Steam filled the room in a heated jet, creating a fog where everything rested in a shroud.
The Captain fired into the exhalation. He couldn't see at what he was aiming, but he didn't want Gold to get too close with that hot breath of his. Men had lost their skin when caught in his steam power.
Gold released the pack from his shoulders. The solid clunk against the floor attracted attention but he was already heading forward. Let the sailors mess with his pack while he dealt with their captain. Whining bullets made him dive to one side. Bullets flying around inside a vehicle loaded with flammable gas was a bad recipe.
He had to stop that quick.
Gold charged forward, summoning his breath power again. One good blast should do it. He had been feeling winded the last year or so. He thought something was wrong inside, but couldn't stop helping save the world.
Schwartz spotted the adventurer clearing the now cool cloud of mist. He leveled his pistol at the tan double breasted jacket. One bullet should put an end to this. They would dump the body over the Pacific.
Johnny Gold released the steam built up in his lungs. The cloud struck the officer like a furnace. The pistol went up and discharged. The bullet punctured the roof of the cab, then the bag beyond. The hot metal slug ignited the gas in a firestorm over the city.
The explosion rocked Los Angeles, but those who hadn't seen it at the time put it down to a small tremor. Jerome Silver was one of those. He had diagrams and drawings of tubes he hoped to put in radios or the new thing called television. The building shook under him, but that meant nothing as long as it didn't fall down around him.
Jerry had to figure out how to manufacture smaller tubes with better carrying properties in three days. He didn't think he could do it. He picked up one of his failures and turned it around in his hand, examining it with his eyes.
What had gone wrong?
A crackling from his phone made Jerry look at the instrument. He picked up the receiver, wondering what was going on. A bolt of electricity picked him up and slung him across the room. He crashed against a work desk and went out like a light.
Jerry woke up in the hospital. Bandages wrapped his hand where he had been holding the phone. He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He glanced in the mirror and stopped. He ran his unburned hand through his hair.
Jerry's hair had been a raven black. Now it was a gray, like an old man's, like the silver that was his name. He stared at it, forgetting about why he had entered the bathroom.
What had happened to him?
Jerry held up a hand. Lightning raced around the fingertips as he watched. He decided that he needed to sit down. Silver made his way back to his bed. Lightning touched the rails that were supposed to keep patients from rolling off of the mattress to the floor. He took a breath and the yellow streaks died.
What should he do? Being able to summon electricity was beyond him. Maybe there was an expert that could help him. Everyone knew that Johnny Gold knew scads of things about stuff like this. Maybe he should try to get in touch with the man.
Jerry nodded to himself. If Gold couldn't help, he would know someone who could. His reputation as an expert circled the world. Jerry stood up and started looking for his clothes. He couldn't see someone in a backless gown and be taken seriously.