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Earth-616

Captain’s log. Day 31 of Plato’s Journey to Atlantis. I had no choice but to lock Higgins away. His detailed stories were giving the rest of the crew nightmares. It's clearly documented that along with insanity and unnatural acts, fear remains one of the great threats of deep sea travel. 

This morning, I had to stand before the crew and tell them yet again, that there is no such thing as the Sub-Mariner. 

He is a legend. 

An Ocean cryptid. 

A deep-sea Bigfoot. 

Captain Marlowe, the last man remaining on his submarine. He was crouched in a ball on the observation deck, staring into the dark nothingness of the ocean. The eerie abyss that seemed to call for him. He took a radio transceiver and rambled into it, hoping someone would hear what he had to say.

“Marlowe, Observation Deck, two hundred hours. Still nothing but the darkness. I… wait…” Marlowe trailed off as he saw a dim light appear in the darkness below. It was gradually getting brighter and brighter. 

“Oh… Oh my God… I think I see it. It's… It's beautiful, it’s…” Marlowe said, before it blinded him. He covered his eyes, as they adjusted to the light. 

“So beautiful…”

Wind howled loudly, it was almost deafening. At the peak of the South Asian, snow capped mountains of the Himalayas, two figures were investigating. Two men, wrapped in big, padded coats with fur lining their hoods looked upon footprints that they didn't leave behind. 

“Most definitely not human.”

“This must be like the one Hillary saw in ‘52. It's got to be 15 inches long.” 

“Closer to 20, I'd say.” Randolph Stein said. He was a very stern looking man, with thin brows that always seemed to be furrowed. The rest of his face was quite angular, with a sharp nose and a thin moustache. His skin appeared to be as pale as the snow, except for his pink nose and rosy cheeks. Randolph’s eyes were brown and quite puffy from the harsh winds. 

“Take a picture. Tell the Sherpas to be ready to move on.” Randolph instructed his colleague.

“But Stein… the weather’s closing in.”

“That doesn't matter. Prepare the men.” Randolph insisted. “We’re going to catch us a snowman .” 

Back in New York, Professor Randolph Stein presented his findings to the American Institute of Scientific Research members. He was dressed far more smartly, with a dark grey blazer over a pale pale shirt. He wore a necklace that dangled over his chest. He had a fairly strong build, mostly aiding him in expeditions to prove the unprovable. His light brown hair almost looked blond, as he was lit up in a spotlight.

“The Abominable Snowman… the Chinese Wildman… The yeti. Myth or reality? Truth or… hoax? I have spent the last three months in the Himalayas, in search of the Abominable Bigfoot, trying to answer this question.” He said, changing the slide that was projected behind him, to an image of the large footprints. “I discovered this footprint 1700 feet up on the Tsango Lake, on the Southastern slope of the Manasarorar. Eighteen inches long. Surely, we might think that that's enough to prove that a yeti, or some giant creature, trod there?” Randolph said, arrogantly looking out upon the intrigued faces that watched him. “I'm afraid not. We mustn't be so easily fooled by appearances. A footprint in snow is liable to change in shape and dimensions. Sun, wind and blizzard. They can all alter or diminish details.” Randolph said, before some men wheeled out a cage, which was hidden beneath a dark teal tarp. The audience gasped and exchanged murmurs, excited to see what was underneath.

“But I pursued the maker of this print. For two days my team and I were on its trail. Until finally… Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… the Abominable Snowman!” Randolph announced. Men pulled the tarp off of the cage and inside was…

“...or rather, I give you what is commonly mistaken for the Abominable Snowman: The Red Himalayan Bear.” Randolph announced, as the bear pawed at its bars, confusedly. “All the tests and minute hair samples prove beyond any doubt that the so-called mysterious footprint, in fact, belonged to the bear. There are no grounds for belief in an Abominable Snowman. Because the Abominable Snowman does not exist. ” Randolph declared. “Science! The triumph of reason over superstition!” 

After his presentation, Randolph stood outside on the rooftop terrace. He was leaning against a short wall that looked over the deep chasms of buildings that lined the streets of New York. Randolph and the other members of the institute were all drinking scotch or liquor. Randolph was approached by a couple of men. One was bald and wore a black suit, while the other had thinning, blond hair and wore a grey suit. 

“That was quite a show, Doctor Stein.” The blond man, named Higgins, said.

“Thanks. I have somewhat a disdain for the glitzy, showboating theatrics of it all. I’d rather write up my findings in a textbook.” Randolph sighed.

“But how many ordinary folk would you reach then, right? This is Admiral Howard Lee. He wanted to meet you.” The blond chuckled, before gesturing towards the bald man. He did have a white beard and his body was a bit chunky. 

“I hear you’re the ‘Great Debunker’, or at least, that’s what the Daily Bugle calls you, Doctor Stein.” Admiral Howard said, as Randolph lit up a cigarette. 

“I’ve been called worse.” Randolph shrugged.

“So you’re a professional sceptic?” Howard asked.

“I prefer to see myself as a rationalist. I’m a simple man of science, part of a proud western tradition.” Randolph corrected, before blowing smoke away from the admiral. 

“Well, we have a proposition, Mr. Stein. One that should intrigue a man of science.” Higgins said.

“What do you know about Atlantis? ” Howard questioned. Randolph’s brow perked up. 

Randolph was taken into Higgins’ office, for a more in-depth briefing. They showed him a picture of Captain Marlowe - he’s a handsome man. Short black hair with a deep widow’s peak, a sharp jawline with a fat nose. He was wearing a wetsuit, with air tanks strapped to his back.

“Marlowe is an eccentric man. This is the only known photograph of him taken, before his ill-fated 1939 expedition to find Atlantis. All his crew died on that doomed voyage, including his wife.” Admiral Howard explained.

“Ah yes, I remember reading about that. An English Heiress, Pippa-Forbes-Waugh. A shame, really.” Randolph nodded. “Marlowe had a nervous breakdown. I’ve heard people say he left a piece of himself down there. Just recently his obsession dragged him back down into the depths again, in hopes of finding Atlantis.” Randolph recalled.

“And this time, he may have actually found something.” Howard said, before pressing play on a tape recording. “This is the last message we picked up from him.” 

“Oh… Oh my God… I think I see it. It's… It's beautiful, it’s… So beautiful…” Marlowe’s voice said.

“That’s all there was. And today makes it at least a week old. His message was picked up by the Mariana Trench outpost, who sent it manually up-surface to us. The Trench is out of range of direct communication, you see.” Admiral Howard explained. “We have mapped pretty much every square inch of the planet’s surface, but huge sectors of the sea remain a mystery to us. The Marianas trench is our last outpost. Beneath that lies only uncharted territory. They call it the Black Water. ” Howard continued, before showing a diagram of the ocean levels. 

“Okay… and what do you want me to do about it?” Randolph questioned.

“The Navy wants to know if Marlowe has really found Atlantis. Marlowe is considered a suspect - that he might be working for the Reds . If that place does exist… we don’t want the Communists claiming it.” Higgins explained.

“We have a vessel waiting for you. We know your record, Doctor Stein, you’re the best man to lead this mission. We have to know if Marlowe has lost his mind, or if he has really found the legendary fable of the underwater city.” Howard told him. “Of course, you’re under no obligation to help us…” 

‘Under no obligation, perhaps. But how could a man like me turn down such an opportunity? I’ll keep this journey documented, using this journal to keep a record of all my findings. The mythical Atlantis has persisted us for thousands of years. One of those stories, with no evidence and even less scientific basis that just won’t go away. 

And what of our mysterious Marlowe? A naive scientist and delusional explorer? Or a dangerous madman with blatant disregard for the lives of his men?

The man from the Navy said they knew my record. I should count myself lucky there isn’t anything in there about how I get seasick, even in a bath. I wonder if I’ll lose respect from the crew if I become ill before we're even a hundred metres under the sea.’

Stein leaned against the giant, circular window that looked out upon a school of fish as the big metal can sank deeper and deeper into the blue. He was approached, by a man named Floyd Nelson, but everyone called him Nelson.

“Looking kinda green, Doc.” Nelson said. He had short, black hair, light brown skin and a beefy body. Not strong, just big and sturdy. “I brought you these. Old, deep-sea recipe. Kelp, sea salt, aspirin and of course a little bit of crushed mermaid bones.” Nelson said, handing over these circular, spherical tablets. 

“Mermaid? Okay, if it helps my breakfast stay down, I’ll believe it just this once.” Randolph scoffed. They both wore tank tops and dark, baggy pants, although Nelson wore a grey neckerchief. Randolph chewed and swallowed the tablet, cringing at the taste.

“Aren’t you supposed to be navigating this hunk of metal?” Randolph asked.

“Nah, it pretty much sinks all on its own for a while. Getting back up is where I earn my money.” Nelson assured him.

“Glad to hear it. You know, I can’t believe how beautiful this is. It’s so clear.” Randolph said, looking out into the vast ocean.

“Yeah. Well, make the most of it, Stein. It’s gonna get a whooole lot darker.” Nelson reminded him.

“Darker?”

“Yeah. The sea looks gorgeous on the surface, sure. But go deeper an’ you find a whole different realm of existence. A dangerous, ominous world.” Nelson described.

“Yeah, but… how dangerous can it really be, when we’re sealed inside this modern sub?” Randolph reasoned. 

“This danger that I speak of… It’s just in your mind. The depths do strange things to a man’s head. The deeper you go, the more creatures lurk in the darkness.” Nelson explained.

“Alright, alright. Stop pulling my leg. I heard all about the folk tales surrounding the deep sea.” Randolph scoffed.

“This isn’t no folk tale, Doctor .” Nelson said, firmly. He looked stern and quite intimidating, unlike his warm self just mere moments ago.

“Trust me. I’ve seen it happen. There’s more waiting for us down there than a few ugly fish.” He said.

‘They all keep trying to scare me. Keep telling me these stories of men that went down into the ocean and resurfaced as different people.’

“The Medusa was captained by a man named Duroc de Chaumereys. A fool, by all accounts…” Shawn Baker said, another member of the crew as they ate dinner together. “When some of his crew sighted a creature, part man, part God, following the ship. He ordered them to fire at it, despite them pleading not to… But he insisted.” Shawn explained. Shawn was muscular and tall, with combed, black hair and a thin beard that highlighted his squared off jaw. He wore a button down shirt, although it was half undone with rolled up sleeves to show off his chest hair and furry forearms. He wore a gold watch around his wrist as he ate his soup. 

“And so they fired their guns at N-Namur. It was soon after this, that the Medusa ran aground, off the coast of Africa.” Alejandro Gomez added. He was quite a thin, lean Latino man with hooped earrings and dark curls. His jawline and nose were quite pointy - Randolph thought he resembled a fish in some ways. He wore a grey t-shirt and black, mechanic pants, with lots and lots of pockets. He and Shawn were very close - it was rare to see one without the other.

“You’re really trying to tell me that Namor, this creature, had something to do with it?” Randolph asked, already exhausted by these far-fetched tales. 

“The Sub-Mariner forced the Medusa towards the Arguin Bank. One hundred and forty souls were killed.” Alejandro nodded.

“Some of the Medusa’s survivors said they’d seen him nearby. They heard his laughter, said it was like the wind.” Shawn nodded.

“This is ludicrous. The Medusa sank over a hundred years ago, in case you forgot. Nelson, you don’t believe in this fabricated nonsense, do you?” Randolph laughed, mockingly.

“I’m not foolish enough to deny his existence. Not when I’m in his world, I won’t.” Nelson answered, simply.

“Next you’ll try to convince me the Titanic was Namor’s doing.” Randolph rolled his eyes.

“Well, one of the first-class passengers had spent years searching for Atlantis. It’s rumoured he had a map handed down from antiquity. Both man and map were lost when the Titanic sank.” Nelson said.

“Yeah, the keyword there is rumour . For fucks sake, the Titanic was sunk by an iceberg . A mountain of crystalline solids that formed thousands of years before it came into collision with the ship. There are no half-man creatures living under the sea. There is no protector of Atlantis because there is no Atlantis!” Randolph angrily said, slamming his cup of ale onto the table.

“In 1610, the King of Spain sent a ship to the New World. It never arrived.” Shawn mentioned.

“Oh my God… I can’t keep listening to these conspiracies. We’re on a scientific expedition, please try to remember that. Good night.” Randolph said, getting up and walking out of the dining room.

‘I must be careful not to lose my temper with these people. These ‘Deep-Men’. That’s what they’re calling themselves, anyway. They really seem to believe their fantasies. I’m looking forward to proving to them that their fairy-tales are just that. Tales. 

Perhaps I should be expecting this kind of mindset. How did Nelson put it? The deeper you go, the more creatures crawl out of the darkness. What creatures await me, in darkness? I have trained myself not to remember Annie. That pain, that shame. But now, as the great weight of the dark ocean presses around me… I feel…’

Suddenly, the entire craft shook violently, disrupting Randolph’s journaling. Papers and equipment fell off his desk as he fell backwards on his chair and onto the ground with a panicked yelp. Randolph climbed towards his door and opened it, peering his head through.

“Nelson?!” He blurted out, needing answers.

“Strap yourself down! We’ve got a rough one!” Nelson shouted back, as Shawn and Alejandro also peered into the corridor.

“Is this… This must be a hydrothermal vent. Right? We’re passing a mid-ocean ridge?” Randolph deduced.

“Ah, you’ve done your homework, huh? Down here we call ‘em Sea-Devils.” Shawn said.

“Are you happy now, Stein? You denied he existed. It’s bad enough we’re searching for Atlantis, but you had to go and laugh at him, too.” Alejandro said, anxiously. 

“Alejandro! Stop spewing bullshit. We are on a scientific expedition, not a ghost hunt.” Stein angrily snapped back.

“To hell with your science. It doesn’t count for nothing, down here.” Shawn angrily said, getting in front of Alejandro, defensively. 

“Oh yeah? Then what the fuck do you think helped build this ship? What do you think created the oxygenerators that make the air that keeps us alive?!” Stein argued.

“He’s out there!” Avery Davis, another member of the crew, shouted from down the corridor. Avery is a pale, lean man with messy brown hair and had tattoos decorating his arms. He was shirtless, wearing a chain necklace and had stubble along his jaw. 

“I saw him! He’s there, alright!” Avery told them. 

“For gods sake, get outta my way!” Stein angrily said, pushing past Avery to look into the periscope. He could see the top of the sub, as the sun was just barely reaching through the deep waters. Stein watched for a few seconds, before he saw a shadow graze across the sub. It did look a lot like a human’s shadow, but Stein immediately came up with a far more reasonable conclusion. 

“It's just a giant squid or something. That's all. Architeuthis Dux, to give it its Latin name.” Stein told the crew, firmly. 

“Sorry, Doc. I've seen giant squids, and that thing is not a giant squid.” Avery insisted. 

“Alright. Fine. We’ll take a closer look. Avery, how about you and me go out in the pods?” Stein said, angrily, opening the hatch that led to the lower floors of the submarine. 

“My God, how’d we get lumped with the idiotic Doctor?” Shawn said, in disbelief. 

“Doctor! For God’s sake, you don't go out in a sea-devil! Not unless you’re looking to die!” Nelson said, angrily. 

“I'm willing to take that risk. You boys can stay here, if it's too scary for you.” Stein said, climbing down the ladder. 

“Damn you!” Nelson said, furiously. He followed him down into the escape pod docks. 

“This is how it starts…” Alejandro mumbled. 

“We keep in constant communication. When I say we turn back, we turn back.” Stein said, already opening up a pod.

“Doctor, don't do this. This isn't you, this is the depths .” Nelson reasoned.

“No, I have to wipe this fucking superstition off this goddamn sub. If the expedition has any chance of success, I have to prove, once and for all: There’s no such thing as Namor!” Stein told him, before shutting the overhead cockpit windshield canopy, sealing himself inside.

“Please, don-!” But before Nelson could finish, the pod launched itself out of the submarine, into the dark void of the marine.