Mummified Spitfires – Google Docs
Mummified Spitfires
The legend has it that, after World War 2, the British government buried a number of Spitfire airplanes in Burma (after prepping them for long-term storage underground). This legend has been investigated several times, over the years; most recently in 2013. It’s pretty clear by now that, in fact, no Spitfires were ever actually buried in that country.
Well, of course not. The British buried the blessed things in Australia. Even in 1945 it was becoming clear that decolonization was looming on the horizon. God only knows who would rule Burma after the land left the Empire; probably would end up being some military junta, or something equally obnoxious. Better to put the planes out in the Outback, where it was dryer, handy to various friendly magical communities, and under the oversight of, well, yes, Australians, but they were good chaps. Underneath it all.
Of course, being secretly buried in a magically sensitive place after undergoing esoteric preservation rituals has, much as His Majesty’s Government hoped, turned the Spitfires (twenty in all) into — not Undead, exactly. They don’t feed on life force, murder energy, human fear, any of the usual problems. The Spitfires are, however, fully operational, regenerating airplanes that don’t need fuel or ammo and who can otherwise make a decent stab at replicating some of the more dramatic Plagues of Egypt. As long as the Plagues can be repurposed into having an airplane ‘theme’ somehow.
The Spitfire Mummies are also self-aware, and have views on the United Kingdom (a few of them have views on the British Empire, instead). The only reason why they haven’t flown back to England and started enforcing those views (as only a bunch of immortal warplanes with the ability to call forth clouds of locusts from their prop wash can) is because roughly half of the Spitfires are Labour, and half are Tories. So there’s a general agreement in place to let things slide until there’s an existential danger to the Realm that everybody can sign off on.
And that’s where the team comes in. The Spitfires expect annual reports on the state of affairs in Great Britain, and it’s the team’s job to supply those reports. In a manner that does not cause a score of sentient aerial mummies to travel across the planet and start laying down otherworldly curses on whoever they decide is guiltiest. Mummies are technically the easiest of the revenants to deal with, but that’s true only as long as they’re not being enthusiastic about things.
So bore the Spitfires, ladies and gentlemen. Bore them exquisitely. Just don’t actually lie to them. They can smell lies.
While the ferocity of the flocks played a large part in the Australian Army’s 1933 defeat in the Great Emu War, some suspected Outside aid. While the Spitfire project may have envisioned this as a secondary mission, there were further Emu insurgencies, and Australia chose to embrace the image of a land where everything was, in fact, trying to kill you.
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There was rumor of a similar program in America, squirreling away tanks in the Mojave in case the Japs were dumb enough to try a *direct* invasion. However, any mystical potential was soon nerfed by the opening of Disneyland in 1955. When combined with the Rt.66-ers flocking to Hollywood, the critical mass of childish whimsy formed a complete sink for all magical energy in the region for a generation.