In 1897, deep in the Arctic Circle, an expedition crew was in trouble. Axes rose and fell as the men worked desperately to try and free their ship from the blocks of ice surrounding it.
"Put your backs into it, or we'll be chopping our way back to the States!" ordered Captain Witwicky.
Just then, their pack of huskies began to howl at something off in the distance.
"There's something out there," a sailor said, as the dogs took off.
The captain grabbed his rifle and lantern. He and two other men carefully made their way to a large floe, where the dogs pawed at the ice.
"Whatever it is, it's below the ice," said one of the men.
"Nothing's alive below this ice," the captain replied.
Suddenly a huge rift opened. The men dived to safety, but one of the dogs fell through the giant crack. As the captain grabbed for the husky, he fell into a thirty-foot-deep ravine. Down they tumbled, landing hard on something. Dazed, the captain made sure the dog was all right and then got his bearings.
"I'm okay, lads!" he shouted to his worried crewmen.
Captain Witwicky looked around and was surprised to find that he was standing on the palm of a giant steel hand, half submerged in the ice. Embedded within the ice wall was a mechanical face—its expression frozen in a scream. Shock and confusion washed over the captain. Then he saw an unrecognizable symbol on the mechanoid. Curious, he pulled out his pickax.
The ice cracked . . . triggering something on the mechanoid's body. A laser blast shot out from the metal and burned the captain's eyes.
"Aahhhh!" screamed Captain Witwicky, collapsing to the ground, covering his eyes. His glasses went flying off his head and hit the ground with a crack.
"Captain? Captain?!" yelled the men from the top of the ravine.
Trembling, Captain Witwicky searched for his glasses. He put them on, but it was no use. He was blind.