"War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength."
In a steampunk-inspired World War II, treachery and secrets abound as the world spirals closer to chaos.
Steve Rogers is a would-be soldier with nothing to lose. Denied from enlisting more t...
"It is easy to translate a distant sound into the shout of a man
if one is intent and knows that the dark passing waters may hold
a survivor or the still lingering spirits of the recent dead."
- BB55 war diary
media:
"I'll Walk Alone"
by Martha Tilton
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
East Coast Shipping Lanes; January 12, 1942
Clint liked New York City much better than London, mostly because the people were probably falling over themselves to give him free stuff.
Whenever he wore his new Navy uniforms – the old ones had been ruined in the water or had gone down with the Reuben James – he never had to pay at restaurants, he could ride the subway for free, and movie tickets were thrown his way. His weekend of leave had been rudely interrupted by shore patrol ordering him back to his new ship, the North Carolina. Clint didn't know much about the ship, except that she had received some special attention for her massive firepower capabilities, attention that had earned her the nickname 'Showboat.' Showboat was one of the musicals Clint had received free tickets to during leave, so he had a good impression of the ship already before stepping on board.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
His first view of the ship revealed a large difference between the North Carolina and the Reuben James: the new ship was absolutely massive. He had never seen something so huge in his entire life. A wall of steel rose from the waterline, arcing gently over his head in the sloping side of the ship. She wore a plain gray measure, but the simple paint job did little to detract from her sturdy figure and firepower bristling from her upper levels. If Clint leaned his neck back far enough, he could make out the slender forms of the 20-millimeter deck guns, where he guessed he would be stationed again.
A security guard approached Clint, a firearm slung across his back and a similarly threatening expression on his face. "Can I help you here, son?"
"Yessir, I've just been reassigned to this ship. She's a real beauty, isn't she?"
