The sea! Its vast spaces, its trackless depths, endless beaches, majestic breakers, treacherous reefs, and unpredictable storms have been both a defending wall and a welcoming highway for as long as life emerged from its waters. And just as man occasionally yearns to return to the sea, so do comic books, parading a never-ending armada of salt-soaked moist super-people ready to find adventure under the waves. And this is certainly one of them.
Come with us on a journey into the foamy depths of the Pentagon as weird sea life- I mean, a collection of poorly groomed military brass - discuss the Soviet submarine base at Holy Loch, Scotland - literally within easy walking distance of some of Scotland's most vital whiskey producing centers. This aggression must not stand! Seadragon will, can be, and is, in fact, our only hope!
And so, in the calm, open seas surrounding the Scottish coast, an entire US Navy task force carries out its dual mission of preparing its mission-sensitive cargo while at the same time thinking up a credible cover story to tell the Royal Navy in case they start wondering what's going on in what is, after all, THEIR ocean.
That entire US Navy Task Force is just for one guy in a Creature From The Off-Brand Lagoon suit? How much equipment could one gill-man possibly need?
The confidence of highly-trained military operatives has never been made clearer than in this panel where he prays to God to please not let him screw the pooch. It's this attitude that got us to the Moon!
"I have to keep my highly trained mind on the task at hand... but meanwhile let's flash back to how I got put into this gimp suit in the first place."
We're flashing back forward to the Combat Information Center, which is monitoring one of those "fishing boats" the Russkies would send into international waters to listen in on radio communications and generally be mysterious and stuff. They still do that sort of thing, but it's no longer as mysterious. I miss the Cold War.
OK, back to the flashback, where apparently we are re-enacting the first scene of "Horror Of Party Beach". Remember the Navy can't afford to have anything happen to that suit, which is the only thing distracting the readers from the weird fish-like faces of our supposedly normal human characters.
And then it happened, with a "Whosh." They're all dead. Could he have prevented it? Did his fish-suit have Anti-Whosh capabilities? We'll never know, because here we are back in the present, and we apologize for confusing the readers with flashing back to an underwater mission during our underwater mission.
I'm not saying the Soviet Navy should be more alert here, but on the other hand, their safety record is far from perfect. Maybe pay more attention to the large fish, comrade.
And within minutes, the big story - a Soviet submarine was spotted in NATO territorial waters - is front page news on every newspaper in the country. This kinda thing happened literally hundreds of times, so we have to assume that day was a worldwide slow news day. Return to Baltic Fleet HQ in shame, you podvodnaya lodka sailors!
Later that evening, it's time for a relaxing General Foods International Coffee moment with the fish-face guy, the other fish-face guy, and the guy in the fish suit.
That's OK Brad, it doesn't bother me to talk about it any more. You know, I'm not alone, many men like myself have to contend with the heartbreak of fin rot. But one day I spoke to my doctor, and he...
Just use the laser scalpel FIRST, guys. It's right there, use it!
You might feel terrible about your three dead friends who died in that WHOSH incident, but here, here's a medal, maybe that will make you feel a glimmer of hope.
Wait a minute, as a result of your military service you have a crazy fish-man suit permanently glued to your body, and you think it's "all over with?" No my friend, the amazingly lucrative lawsuits are ONLY BEGINNING.
OR you could use your amazing fish-suit-body to serve your country in a different branch of government service! I'm thinking the US Fish & Wildlife Department could really use a guy that could, say, convince those recalcitrant salmon to swim up their new fish ladders. Or something. Now pump some iron, fishy!
The next morning Walter A. Koch awoke feeling alive! Powerful! And probably really sore from all that weightlifting!
Part Two of our exciting Seadragon adventure begins with Walter misquoting "The Elephant Man" and smashing a vase! For freedom.
Seadragon is swimming at the speed of... let's do the math - about 133 miles an hour. That's fast! And he didn't even have to stop for pee breaks. Fish just go whenever they want!
I hope he brought a little cash for those Panama Canal lock fees.
The captions are starting to venture into Hallmark card territory, and that's never a good sign.
Okay buddy, you didn't write, you didn't call, you were blown up and fused with a fish suit and the government probably declared you dead. So don't act all surprised that she moved on. In fact she might have moved entirely! That might not even be her!
Well look at that, a convenient costume party. Just the place for a depressed fish peeping tom to find some distraction!
I have many questions about this sequence. First off, how does he drink through his fish-man mask that's permanently fused to his body? And secondly, have the writers forgotten that their fish-man's name is Walter Koch, and Brad Jefferies is his friend?
On the other hand, if I was going to get drunk out of my mind and start beating up cops, I'd DEFINITELY want to be using somebody else's name.
Well, I'm still confused, because in panel one, the fish-man is Brad Jefferies and he wants to call Walter Koch, and four hours later, the Not Fish-Man Brad Jefferies is in the Del Mar Police station bailing out the fish-man. This is what happens when your writer and your editor are the same guy.
By the way, the name of the Naval Air Station is MIRAMAR, not "Merimar". @#$% editors, how do they work, anyway?
The "scientist's" are trapped at 23,000 feet in their "bathyscaph" and no, we still don't know what editors do
Here's some tools, here's some bombs, we're not even going to land, we're just going to throw you out of this plane. Fish can survive being thrown out of planes, right?
Sure, just plant the explosives and THEN look for a place to avoid the blast. That's how the experts do it!
Suddenly Seadragon comes face to face with a real seadragon, which kinda looks like a dog. Maybe it is a dog. One thing's for sure, Mike Nelson would definitely have trouble here, though I am sure Joel would manage to figure out a prop or an invention exchange to save everybody on the Satellite of Love. Wait, what's that? This is a reference to a DIFFERENT Mike Nelson on a DIFFERENT television show? Okay, fine, by this time my lungs were bursting for air. Happy now?
And this is how it ends, not with a WHOSH but a WUMP. Now go and follow that underwater dog-snake for a while!
Will you join us next time as Seadragon learns that EVIL looms in the Garden of Eden? And what, exactly IS Evil looming? A rug? A blanket? We'll find out! Or, actually, we won't. So long Walter, or Brad, whichever you are!
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