Author: Comedianmasta (Nate)
Rating: 12+ Welcome to the Teens!
Genre: Fantasy, Action, Adventure
Series?: No, not to say. This book will end with just 1, then if I choose to do anymore stories in/around this same period or in my world of this then I will title it World War Fantasy: Whatever
Discription: 1950s Earth, many years since the time of Elves, Dragons, Dwarves, Goblins, Magic, and Legends. The only difference is: They're all still here! based off the shortstories Here We delve into the world of two OSS Agents and a rag-tag cast of cooky characters who embark on a mad quest to save the world! Unfortunatley, they end up setting off the Zombie portion of WW2. Read how A Man, and Elf, a Reporter, a Begger, a gangster, a Dwarf, an Australian, and a German Veteran worked together to try and bring down Hitlers Germany and the Axis powers consisting of the Goblin Empire and superstitious tribes from around the world. It's garunteed to be an adventure you won't forget yet: From Orlando to Australia to Africa, to France, to Goblin-Controlled Russia, it's a story you'll remember for ever and ever.
Now I hope you enjoy this adventure, from the bottom of my heart!
I consider the Short Stories from above all the "Prologue" you'll need. Please reference them for connections and the like. Now, chapter one...
World War Fantasy
Ancient ArtifactChapter 1
Tho Art Spies
Jacub adjusted his tie once more. He hated these monkey suits, and cursed whatever man, elf, or dwarf invented them. He bumped into a secretary walking down the hall, and she glared at him.
“Sorry,” was all he was able to mutter and she placed her hands on her hips.
“Can I help you, sir,” she asked in a snotty attitude.
“Sorry, just seeing the chief,” he said and he continued walking down the hall.
“Hey,” she yelled, but was too late.
Jacub continued walking down the halls until he saw the giant, oak door with a gold plate on it that read Chief Welshmore. He knocked twice before letting himself in. He was always surprised at how heavy these doors were.
Jacub looked around the room. First thing he noticed was that the Chief was already facing him, rather then his usual turned away while he worked or stared out his window, disguised as just another part of the wall.
Jacub was amazed at the effort the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) did to conceal their presence. Nobody cared about them, well no one in America at least. They disguised their nice offices and hallways and labs as simple metal factory out in Pennsylvania. It was enough to keep the public off, but anyone who really wanted to know could find out. Jacub didn’t know where they got the magicians who could conjure up that sort of spell, but he did know a lot of the looks were do to minor magic.
The Chief had a lot of his past war objects around the room. Standard issue Bow and a few arrows, the Springfield bolt action rifle, and his sword, still stained with Italian blood (he said it was for sentimental purposes he didn’t clean it). The Chief was quite a Rookie Hero back in the Great War. He was in it only for two years, but in that two years served on the Italian front he proved to be a leader and in no way a follower. Before the end of the war, he was already a Sergeant and preparing to move up in the ranks.
Unlike the other Americans who wanted to return home and enjoy they new technology and innovations of the early twenties, The Chief stayed in the military, which earned him even more ranks to fill the slots. In just four years of service, he had made his way all the way up to Lieutenant. Unfortunately for him, his young ambitions and inexperience lost his the complete use of his right leg in a Colony War during 1933. He then retired as a Captain and went into Intelligence work. This left him angry at the world, even though 15 years of service had treated him good.
He was now the Ill-Tempered Chief of Intelligence, and all-around Chief of the OSS. He had become a burley man, who needed the aid of a cane to walk. He had grown a good sized beard, and had just began balding on the top of his head. Unlike the rest of his family, he had grown a bushy pair of eyebrows, which could conceal his eyes when he was very angry.
Jacub always loved fooling around with him and getting on his nerves. This would normally make you a least favorite of any boss, but for some reason The Chief had taken a liking to Jacub.
Jacub allowed the door to fly open and he raised his arms in a friendly greeting.
“Hey, Chief,” said Jacub, “Didja miss me?”
“Sit down, Maxwell,” said the Chief, “We have a lot to discuss.”
“What? My mission was a success,” said Jacub, “That African war will be over in a couple of months. And the War in Europe? Ha, it’ll never last. If the Goblins can’t even hold down Africa with German help, then there’s no way they’ll…”
Jacub trailed off as the door closed, unblocking his view to a chair off to the side. A man with purplish skin, a frail body, and light (almost white) blue combed hair sat in a chair with his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. Jacub stared at him, and his heart rate rose. This could be an evaluation, this could be promotion; this could be social suicide.
Jacub slowly took a chair in front of the Chief, and eyed them both wearily.
“Relax, Maxwell,” said the Chief, “This is Lieutenant Nichols. I needed to talk to you both.”
Jacub released the air he had been holding in his lungs, “Oh, good. Nice to meet you Lieutenant. I’ve heard you have quite a reputation in Document recovery.”
“Yes,” said Nichols, “I know of your reputation, Lieutenant. I believe you just came back from… Africa I presume.”
“Why, yes,” said Jacub, “I know it’s not an elf’s ideal mission but I enjoyed it quite decently. I was in and out without detection.”
“Uh-huh,” said Nichols, very forced, “Without Detection?”
“Alright, you two,” said the Chief, “This is sort of a debrief/briefing here. Now you both have been outstanding on the field. Your recent works have helped out extremely.”
“So what’s the mission,” asked Nichols.
“Well, Lieutenant Maxwell, here, put a major dent in the Goblin African Movement,” started the Chief, “Now they are, understandably, pushing back from the British forces at this moment; but their forces still move supplies and troops down the east coast of Africa to the Southern Tip. No one understands why they would do such a thing besides preparing a flanking strike from the south. The journey through the Congo and it’s forest would be dangerous for anybody, but it is still possible.”
“So, he’s going to Africa?” asked Nichols, pointing at Jacub.
“South Africa,” said Jacub, “I have to admit I don’t exactly want to go back, sir.”
“Not your choice,” said the Chief, “But you’re not going to Africa. Michael, here,” The Chief pointed toward Nichols, “Has recently come back from Germany with the news that Hitler might be looking into more… supernatural ways of winning this war.”
“Magic?” asked Jacub and Mike together.
“Yes,” said the Chief, “And we want answers. What’s their plan and how are they going to accomplish it. We believe a German Spy has set up shop down south in Florida. His specialty was Magical Arts before Germany went to war. We weren’t going to act on him just yet, for we’re not in the war nor has he discovered anything we know of, but if we do end up entering this war then what he knows is vital. I want you two to go and-”
“Wait a second, Chief,” said Nichols, standing to his feat, “What did you just say?”
“I was saying that I wanted you two to go-”
“You want me and him to work together?” asked Nichols, an angry look taking over his face.
“Why, yes,” said the Chief.
“Is there a problem with me?” asked Jacub, crossing his arms.
“Sir,” said Mike, “With all do respect, I can not work with this man.”
“Is it because I’m a man?” asked Jacub, “You don’t work with humans?”
“Sir, Lieutenant Maxwell and I have different… strategies,” Mike argued, “I believe my subtle approach would be interrupted by his… you know.”
“Subtle? I’m subtle,” said Jacub.
“Are you telling a joke?” asked Mike, “What about Beijing?”
“What about Beijing?” asked Jacub.
Mike struggled for the words before he spoke again, raising his voice, “What about Beijing! Maxwell, you blew up a whole building!”
“It was coming down anyway,” said Jacub, “You know the Chinese.”
“What about your last mission?” asked Mike, “You destroyed a major bridge. Just blew it up! You didn’t even hit your target. You had to go in all guns-a-blazing-cowboy to kill the General.”
“I did not, I used a Sniper Rifle,” said Jacub.
“Enough, you two,” said the Chief, “I took both your reputations to account while picking a group to look into this.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to work with YOU, buddy,” continued Jacub, “Elves are too proper, too snotty, too clean, and most definitely too picky!”
“How dare you judge me based on my race,” said Mike, “I’m complaining based on your reputation!”
“What about yours,” said Jacub, “I haven’t even heard of a Lieutenant Nick.”
“It’s Nichols,” said Mike, “Lieutenant Michael Nichols!”
“What do I care?” asked Jacub.
“Enough!” said the Chief, “Now listen. You two better learn to work together and fast because I want you to bring me that Croat as soon as possible, you understand? I want to know why he’s here and what he’s up to! Now get your lazy butts out of my office!”
Before Jacub could react, the Chief had darted out of his chair and shoved Jacub and Michael outside, slamming his heavy door on the other side. Jacub stood in the hallway, stunned, for a little bit before shrugging and walking down the hall. Mike looked from the door to Jacub, and then he rolled his eyes and followed him down the hall.
“So, now what?” asked Mike.
“I guess we put aside our differences and go find this Croat,” said Jacub without looking towards Mike at all, “But first I need to make a stop.”
Jacub stopped by the registration desk for their starter funds, train tickets to Florida, and a small document on their mission objectives along with a photo of the Spy. He opened it up and looked at the ill photo. The man had a long nose, and he was tall. Those were the two big features he could get from the Photo, for he wore a fedora and trench coat that covered up a lot of his features.
“Wow… this guy didn’t try at all, did he?” asked Jacub.
“He does look conspicuous. I mean, who goes to a bakery in Florida?” said Mike.
“What?” exclaimed Jacub, relooking over the picture, “How do you know he’s going into a bakery? I can’t even read that stuff.”
“Well, I trained myself to mathematically rearrange the pixels in my head to get a clearer idea of what the photo is trying to show,” Mike said through a smile, “It has helped me identify documents in the back of photos, recognize people better, and-”
“Yeah, yeah,” murmured Jacub, “You’re a freak. I get it. Alright, come this way.”
Jacub continued walking down corridors until he reached the lab branch. Here many scientists tried their best to make innovations to every day life, as well has military every day life. Scientists scribbled on paper, covered blackboards with equations, and set sire to everything nearby with prototype experiments. When Jacub entered he spotted a small man working on something on a table. The man was much smaller the a regular man, in fact he could’ve been dwarf if not for his smaller build.
Jacub smiled at Mike, and then began rapping on the man’s head. The man bolted upright, and stood erect on the table, some pair or super goggles hanging just over his eyes, making them appear bigger then they probably were.
“Oh, Lieutenant Maxwell, it’s you,” said the little man, “How did the explosives work?”
“Like a charm,” said Jacub, “All the power of the real Plastic Explosives, but much lighter. We only used one camel.”
“Great! Finally a successful field test!” said the man, who took out a clipboard from somewhere Jacub couldn’t follow and turned a few of its ratty pages.
He began scribbling like mad on it and looking off into a world of numbers and specs while Mike approached Jacub.
“I was unaware Dwarves worked in the intelligence community,” said Mike.
“He’s not a dwarf,” whispered Jacub, “He’s a Gnome. Don’t say dwarf around him, please.”
“Oh,” marveled Mike.
Gnomes were much different from dwarves, Let’s just say that if dwarves were more like humans, then gnomes were more like elves. Instead of short a stalky, heavy built like dwarves; gnomes were more thin, and elegantly build. Their beards grew out like silk, instead of rough and messy. They were more environmentally friendly, and for a long time followed the elves in not modernizing like dwarves and man. In time, they were alone to care for the woods, and became mystical creatures of the past.
Gnomes soon modernized, and like the dwarves before them became necessities in any modern country. They were supper smart in whatever
they put their mind to. Gnomes put their minds to controlled logging, wood crafting, and all forms of gardening. Gnomes also took interest in technology, and the growth of it. Unfortunately not enough supported war for them to share any of their findings with any government. Almost like the Goblins, Gnomes retreated to form their own societies and countries. Unlike the Goblins, they embraced countries and governments and unlike dwarves they didn’t shy away from the public eye.
“So, Carl,” said Jacub to the gnome, “What’s new for two agents going to Florida.”
The gnome looked up from his pad and eyed the two, before shaking his head and turning his back on them.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. We do not endorse usage of government equipment on leave. You’ll have to return when you receive your next assignment.”
“Carl, we are on an assignment,” said Jacub, “you gotta have something fun!”
The gnome, again, looked up questionably. Mike pushed Jacub aside and stepped forward.
“It’s true,” said Mike, “We’re tracking down some Nazi Crazy and seeing what he has for us.”
“Uh-huh,” said Carl, staring at them intently, “And you are with him, Lieutenant Nichols? Quite a different combination of… tactics, don’t you think?”
“We’re not happy about it either,” said Jacub quickly, “So whatcha got?”
“Well,” said Carl, thinking, “I do have a few items that could use a field test… and you could use an update-”
“All right!” yelled Jacub, “I knew you could set us up. Ok, what do you got for me?”
“This way,” said Carl, adjusting his goggles and jumping off the table.
He then scurried through the lab, Jacub following intently. Carl lead them to a table in front of a testing room window. Inside, a mannequin had a flamethrower strapped to its back and fired a steady stream towards another target. A fixed M1 Garand had a rope around its trigger, and it fired at the pack of the flamethrower. The flamethrower exploded, engulfing the mannequin in flames.
“Hmm…” said Carl, examining the event, “Still needs work. You see, we’re trying to make a more durable flame thrower tank that also won’t cause an explosion if punctured. There are… kinks.”
Mike shook his head and rolled his eyes. Kinks… he hated that word.
“Alright, now. Jacub, I have a special thing for you. This is a small caliber pistol, we’ve been calling it the Colt Dagger. It has a four shot capacity of these bullets,” Carl showed a tiny bullet, under an inch long, “Now, this is not the thing. The thing is this arm band it comes with.”
Carl pulled out an array of straps small metal bars and showed it to Jacub. Jacub just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Carl furrowed his brows and held out a finger.
“Now, when worn like so,” Carl somehow maneuvered all the straps around his right arm, and eventually he had the whole thing attached to his arm.
It wrapped around comfortably, but it still had some attachments still loosely swing about.
“Now, place the gun in,” Carl attached the gun, and set it back next to his arm.
He then rolled back down his lab coat and held out his hands.
“Cool, hides your guns!” said Jacub, “Look, you can’t even see it.”
“The strap does that, makes it practically hidden, even from short frisks. But it only holds this gun, and that is not all,” said Carl.
Carl walked over to a target ranger, and whipped out his arm. His middle and ring finger pressed down quickly on a trigger in his palm and the gun shot out of the sleeve and into his hand. He then grabbed a hold of it like a normal pistol and pumped the four shots into the target.
“Ok, I’ll admit… that’s a little cool,” said Jacub, nodding at Mike.
“Unfortunately, it too has some kinks,” said Carl, “With the small caliber and gun size, it is extremely inaccurate. It must be used for close quarters defense only. This is still helpful because the gun and holster…thingy are practically invisible once worn properly. They are also extremely light weight, so they are no burden.”
“Pretty nifty, Carl,” said Jacub.
“Yes, I think so,” said Carl, “Now, for you.”
Carl led Mike over to another table, and picked up a small earpiece. It looked like a human ear, but it was off-colored.
“This is a new device we’ve been working for a while. It’s the first device of its kind because it utilizes great technology with intricate magic!”
“Magic…” scoffed Jacub.
“Observe,” said Carl.
He placed the fake ear on his own ear, and then he pinched the lobe. The ear then changed, perfectly matching his little pointed ear. The color slowly turned to match hue of his face, and the point matched identical to what his original ear looked like.
“Woa,” said Mike, “Some sort of disguising of ears…”
“And that’s not all,” said Carl, as he pressed the lobe again.
The ear changed again, except this time it took away the point, and became rounded like a human ear. The hue stayed the same, perfectly matching Carl’s face.
“Woa,” said Jacub, “You guys found a way to hide your ear type! That’s awesome! But… mine’s cooler!”
Mike threw a glare at Jacub saying, “Mature…” under his breath.
“That is still not all,” said Carl, “It will also match whatever makeup or mask you are currently wearing, making your disguise that much more real. And disguise isn’t its main function! It is really a hearing aid. It will be able to give you crisper, clearer sound then our other long-distance hearing devices. As you’ve noticed… It’s much smaller then any we’ve made so far.”
“This could be really helpful,” said Mike, “Thanks Carl.”
“As with the Dagger, both of you will be equipped with these items. We hope that someday they’ll be common place.”
“That’s it, Carl?” asked Jacub, “A small gun and a fake ear? Now, don’t get me wrong, they’re cool. But what about something cooler! What about the detonator which doubles as a pen, what about the flame thrower concealed in a pen, what about the poison disguised as breath mints?”
“Now, now, Lieutenant Maxwell,” said Carl, “Those are classified… and currently under major testing. Do you know how hard it is to fit the right components into a pen so flames don’t shoot out when you’re trying to write? What you have took countless tax-payers dollars already. I’m sorry I can’t feed your… destructive appetite but something tells me you won’t need anything else while looking for a spy in Florida. What are you
planning on doing, anyways?”
“Ugh, nothing Carl,” said Jacub, “It’s just you always seem to have something cool with you.”
“These are fine, Carl,” said Mike, “Thank you. We’ll take them and leave, we have a train to catch. Right Lieutenant?”
Jacub nodded his head and turned to leave.
“Make sure you read the directions,” said Carl, “Otherwise someone could get hurt!”
“You didn’t give me directions with the mini parachute,” said Jacub back.
“Yes there was!” said Carl, “It was in with the chute, right when you unzipped it!”
“Opps!” yelled Jacub back, and he hurried out of the lab.
“Opps?” asked Carl, who began to follow him, “Opps? There shouldn’t be an opps! What are you saying, lieutenant? Maxwell. Maxwell!”
Carl began running after him, flailing the small pistol round, “Where are my directions, Jacub Maxwell? Are they lying in some Russian slum? Maxwell!”
Mike released a long sigh, and laid his head down on the desk.
“Why me?” he asked, “All I wanted was a quiet mission before retirement. Why me? I’m 80 years old! I shouldn’t still be taking this crap…”