Excerpt: Doc Vandal in Flames from the Sky

Doc Vandal held the autogyro steady over the stricken Zeppelin. Acrid smoke rose from the wounds in the airship's flanks as it dove towards the New York skyline. It took all his strength to keep his 'gyro in place against the hot updraft. Without taking his eyes off his target he called to his passenger in the rear cockpit.
"Get ready to take over, Vic!" he yelled over the engine. "Just a few more yards and I'm going to jump."
The stick waggled in his hand, telling him that he'd been heard and Vic was ready to take the controls. Gritting his teeth, he advanced the throttle and the little plane inched forward. Just a few more feet and he'd be in position. They broke past the updraft and the rotor windmilled like crazy as the gyro dropped toward the Zeppelin's hull. Doc let go of the controls and pulled himself onto the left wing, trusting Vic to keep control.
Winds buffeted his head, sending his scarf streaming behind him. The airship seemed to rush upwards towards him, the forward hatch growing from a quarter to a manhole cover in seconds. Gathering his breath, he bent his knees and leaped, aiming just in front of the Zeppelin's forward top hatch. The autogyro shot away barely missing his head, Vic's long red hair streamed behind the cockpit as she dove for safety.
Doc had barely enough time to notice she had reached a safe distance before he smacked into the airship's skin. Pulling his fighting knife, he drove it through the fabric, giving himself an anchor. Fighting the wind, he twisted back to face the hatch, which had opened during his fall.
A black furry head popped up through the opening - followed by a machine pistol. Doc rolled sideways as a spray of bullets ripped a line through where he'd been laying. His knife ripped free and he stabbed several times at the Zeppelin's tough skin before halting his slide. Gripping his knife with his right hand, Doc drew his pistol with his left and snapped off two quick shots. His assailant slumped, and Doc started working his way toward the hatch.
Reaching the hatch, he saw that his assailant was a gorilla brownshirt. "Damn Nazis," he muttered as he squeezed past the ape's bulk and into the access tunnel. The metal was hot to the touch, so he knew he didn't have much time before the ship turned into a torch. Doc slid down the ladder, stopping just before what his memory told him should be the main deck. Slipping his pistol back in its holster, he drew a small rebreather from a pocket in his vest and slipped it in his mouth. Taking two sleep grenades in his right hand, he dropped silently to the deck and drew his pistol.